The Summer of Our Discontent
by The Gramarye
Summary: FINISHED! BtVSHP. WRHP, BSDM. PostBtVS S6, HP 5. Willow's actions in 'Grave' sweep Buffy and Willow into a world of politics, romance, drama, and violence on the eve of the Second Great War of the wizarding world. Wackiness ensues.
1. They're Coming to Take You Away

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      **SPECIAL THANKS TO …**

_Minerva McTabby, _possible reincarnation of Niccolo Machiavelli and author of perhaps the best abandoned (or at least dormant) fic on ff.net, _Two Worlds and in Between,_ for a truly gifted rendition of life within Slytherin House;

_DragonKatGal,_ for her encouragement in getting me to post this, and for her warm ability to get readers in a deliciously good mood;

_Lisette,_ for her cold ability to get readers in a deliciously _bad _mood. ;-)

      **PLOT SUMMARY:**  Instead of being sent to a coven in England after nearly destroying the world, Willow is sent to a certain school of witchcraft and wizardry.  Her best friend comes along, both to keep her safe and to keep her company, while war brews on the horizons of the wizarding world.  New friendships blossom, new enemies emerge, new adventures await.  Wackiness ensues.

      Reviews always welcome!

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**      CHAPTER 1:**

**      THEY'RE COMING TO TAKE YOU AWAY**

      The sun was setting languidly over the Pacific, casting a warm, rosy glow over the little California coastal town of Sunnydale.  The residents were going about their lives just as residents of any other community in America in the late Spring.  Most of the residents were, anyway.  Most of the residents had no idea how close the world had just come to ending.

      On the second floor of a fairly normal-looking suburban home on Revello Drive, Willow Rosenberg was having difficulty sleeping.  She was not among the most of the residents that had no idea how close the world had just come to ending.  She new very well that she was the reason the world had just come very close to ending.  It wasn't the kind of thing that most people slept well having it on one's conscience.

      It had been about a week now, and she still felt like apologizing profusely whenever she saw any of her friends, even though they had told her to stop several days ago.

      She woke up in a cold sweat from another nightmare, and reached for the blond girl that she had shared that bed with for almost a year.  But Tara was not there.  She would never be there again.  Willow sniffed quietly into her pillow.  For a brief time, at least, she had grown strong enough to burn the world to a cinder, but even that kind of power was still not enough to bring one innocent soul back from an undeserved fate.  She woke up like this at least once a night, and she felt more and more guilty every night.  If anything, she was the one who deserved to be dead, and Tara deserved to be alive.  But such was the way of fate, never taking much heed to any notion of justice.

      She turned her pillow over to expose a drier surface, and did her best to cry herself back to sleep again.

      Voices drifted up to her from down below.  Not really wanting to eavesdrop but unable to sleep and desperate for a distraction, Willow pulled herself to the side of her bed and slipped on her slippers.  She cast a glance at the clock on the nightstand before she left the room; it was one in the morning.

      She stopped when she got to the top of the landing and listened.  There were at least three or four different voices coming from down below, and the only one she recognized was that of her longtime friend Rupert Giles, who had been staying on at the house ever since his surprising return from England.  The others all had British accents, however, so her first guess was that other Watchers or Council members had come in after the recent events.  She wasn't supposed to know, but Giles had been getting a lot of mail at the house, which meant that someone was not only corresponding with him, but knew that he was staying at the Summers'.  She doubted anyone but the Council would know that.

      "You've been receiving our letters, I take it?" one of the foreign voices said from below.  He sounded very much like a Watcher, actually, seemingly confident that whatever he was saying was the most important thing happening in the world at the moment, even if it was just to say hello.

      "Yes, Minister, of course.  And I take you have been receiving my replies."

      "We have, Rupert, but I'm sure that even in Sunnydale, you must be aware that … eh … circumstances have changed somewhat in the past year."

      "I heard," Rupert admitted, with stereotypically ominous Watcher doom-and-gloom in his voice.  "But the Ministry has always left Sunnydale alone.  Headmaster Dippett used to call this the no-man's-land of our world.  I would think that the recent events … Him being back and all … you'd have even less reason to come here."

      "We've certainly been busy, of course, Rupert, no doubt about that, important work going on overseas, but with what's happened here in the past week, well, you understand that it's a bit much to just ignore."

      "I do, but don't you think she'll be safer here?  Vo … He's never come west of the Atlantic, as far as we know."

      "True, but if we could feel her from all the way in London, then so could he.  He'd never pass up an opportunity to bring someone like that to his side, no matter how far he had to go.  Probably to other worlds."

      "Willow is safe now.  She isn't like that now."

      Willow's eyes widened.  She had thought they were talking about her, but it was always disconcerting to hear people talking about you when they didn't think you were listening.  She wondered what else had been said about her before that she didn't know about.

      The British voice that had been doing most of the talking seemed to bristle.  "You can't be sure of that, Rupert.  Your judgment has been good, but sometimes you can be a little shortsighted when people you care about have … flaws."

      "You've been reading the Council's reports, I take it?" Giles said with an exasperated gesture.

      "Of course.  Quentin and I meet at least once a month."

      Willow's ears had perked up, though.  If there was a possibility these people might not have been reading the Council's reports, then they probably weren't actually the Council.  But who else would be interested in talking to Giles about her?

      "What's going on?" a soft voice whispered suddenly in Willow's ear, and she started.  She turned and saw a familiar blond-haired face only inches from her nose.

      "No clue," Willow whispered back.  "I think I'm in trouble."

      Buffy patted her friend's shoulder reassuringly.

      They had missed a few sentences of conversation "… she'll be safer at Hogwarts.  For everyone.  If it weren't for Dumbledore, we'd be sending her to Azkaban."

      "Cornelius," another voice, soft and gentle, but for some reason more compelling than the man who had been doing most of the talking, interrupted.

      "I know, Albus, it's all right, you've made your case."

      "Of course," the older voice answered smugly, "but I was actually going to point out that we aren't alone."

      "What?"

      Figuring the game for her was up, Willow motioned Buffy to stay at the top of the stairs while she went down and showed herself.  Buffy, of course, ignored her and came downstairs right alongside her friend.

      There were four people in the living room.  Giles was on the couch, seated next to an old man who seemed at once extremely venerable and undeniably comical, wearing a voluminous purple cloak and matching robes, and thick yellow galoshes, even though it was the middle of June in southern California.  He didn't seem to be sweating, though, and indeed his eyes were sparkling and alert.  It had been him who had alerted the others that they were being overheard.  Across from him stood a short man in a very stuffy Watcher-like pose, who had to be the man who had done most of the talking.  Next to the old and venerable man sat an even older man in a wheelchair, who seemed as alert and bright-eyed as the one sitting next to Giles, even if he didn't have the other's presence.

      "Umm … hi," Willow began nervously.

      "Hello," Buffy added a moment later.  "And Giles, I'll never insult tweed on you again.  I see now that it could have been worse."

      "Good morning, Miss Summers," the old man on the couch answered her.  The other three looked a little ruffled, but there was not a trace of irritation in either his tone or posture.  Indeed, he looked amused.  Willow liked him already.  Even if he had come here to mete out punishment for her.  She had had a feeling that something like this was coming for some time now.

      "Morning?  Funny ideas of morning you have.  Do you know what time it is?"

      "Just after nine in the morning in London," the old man answered.  "We apologize for the earth being round and not all on California time.  Oh yes, and thank you for not changing that over the last few weeks."

      Willow cast her eyes down.

      "Oh, leave her alone," Buffy came to her friend's defense, knowing that Willow had been having major self-esteem problems lately and wasn't likely to stick up for herself the way she needed to.  She wasn't going to learn anything by being depressed forever.

      "So … what's going to happen to me?"

      "Rather direct.  And rather morbid," the old man answered.

      "Professor!" Giles complained.

      "Well, as you probably know, if you've been listening for long, you can't stay here in Sunnydale any longer."

      "Um, just who do you think you are?" Buffy asked.

      "Oh, excuse me, I'm forgetting my manners.  It could have something to do with the hour," Giles began, emphasizing the last point for the benefit of the others who had popped in at one in the morning.

      "We've got a full day in the Ministry, Rupert, it couldn't be helped," the Watcher-like man said, in a tone that indicated that he didn't really care what Rupert thought of his manners.

      "Of course," Giles continued.  "But be that as it may, this is Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic of the United Kingdom.  This is an old teacher of mine, Albus Dumbledore, now Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England, and next to him, in the wheelchair, is an old friend of his that I'm only meeting for the first time tonight, the esteemed alchemist Nicholas Flamel."

      "Minister of Magic?" Buffy asked.

      "School of witchcraft?" Willow added.

      "Perhaps I might … er … explain?" Dumbledore suggested.

      "Be my guest," Fudge said curtly.  "This was all your idea, after all.  I just hope you know what you're doing."

      "You should be thankful," Dumbledore warned, his voice still soft but his tone suddenly anything but comical, "that very few people know what I am doing."

      "Of course."  Willow noticed something pass between them there.  She wasn't sure what the official standing was of a Minister versus a Headmaster, but it was clear that, unless they were both fantastic actors, that Dumbledore held the true power in the room.

      Dumbledore nodded, taking the Minister's comments in stride, and turned to address Willow.  Once he had her eyes, she found it completely impossible to look away.  "Miss Rosenberg, I'm sure you well know that you did something rather foolish recently."

      "I'm aware," Willow agreed faintly.  She somehow had the feeling she would have agreed with him even had he said that she had walked on the moon recently.

      "Well, when you drew that amount of power, you attracted a lot of attention.  From a lot of people."

      "Strange people," Buffy added.

      Dumbledore shot her a reproving look, and, as final proof that Dumbledore had the most commanding presence in the room, Buffy actually stayed silent.

      "Anyway, I can tell that you came here expecting to be punished.  It was certainly discussed …" he shot Fudge a look, "… but Rupert here has been arguing quite strongly on your behalf.  However, it is no longer safe for you here.  There is a sorcerer … an extremely dark and extremely powerful sorcerer, named Volde …"

      "Dumbledore!" Fudge protested weakly.

      "Voldemort," Dumbledore and Flamel both finished pointedly.  Dumbledore continued, "who has recently risen again, and our world is gearing up for a war unlike any the Muggle world—by which I mean the non-magic world—has ever seen.  It is almost certain that he will be sending servants to come track you down, if he does not come himself."

      "Someone who would want to turn me bad again," Willow surmised.

      "Something like that," Fudge said in a voice that seemed to hint that he wasn't entirely sure that she would need to be 'turned again' at all.

      "Care to say that in plainer English, English?" Buffy confronted the man.

      Fudge's face contorted; he seemed to be trying to look like an angry and terrible sorcerer, though it was hard to tell if he was angry or constipated.  "Let it be, please," Dumbledore continued.  "Anyway, we've had a talk … several, actually … in the Ministry in the last week, and we've decided that there is only one way you can be safe."

      There was a pause.  "OK," Willow nudged him to continue.

      Instead of speaking, Dumblestore stood and reached into his robes, and when he withdrew his hand, he was holding a small, thick letter sealed with an ornate wax seal bearing a decorative "H" on the flap.  Willow opened it, and Buffy leaned over her shoulder to read.

      _Dear Miss Rosenberg,_

_      You have been extended a special invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, beginning this summer session.  Students shall be required to report to the Chamber of Reception upon arrival, the dates for which you shall be duly advised.  Enclosed you will find a list of all books and materials needed for the fall term.  Please read over it carefully and be sure to have everything necessary by the start of term._

_      Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster_

_      P.S. Two things make this invitation special.  The first is that you will be assigned immediately into the Sixth Year.  The second is that your acceptance is not optional._

      "You're being sentenced to summer school?  It could be worse," Buffy remarked flippantly.

      "For me, anyway," Willow said, with a shy grin that barely reached the corners of her mouth.

      "Now, then, serious question time," Buffy said, turning to Dumbledore.  "Not that I don't believe you, but why is it that you believe she'll be safe at a school in England and not safe here with all her friends … and, if I can be so conceited, a Slayer?"

      "Good job, Buffy!" Willow congratulated her.

      "Thanks," Buffy answered smugly.

      "No, I meant using the word 'conceited.'  That's moving up."

      "Hey, I'm looking out for you here!"

      "No, it's OK …"

      Before Willow could finish, Dumbledore was clearing his throat for attention.  "Of course.  Well, I must say that Hogwarts is no ordinary school … if I can be so conceited," he added, tossing Buffy's phrase back at her.  "But having a friend and a Slayer nearby does indeed sound like a good idea.  In fact, you've convinced me."

      He took an identical envelope to the one he had given Willow out of his robe and handed it to Buffy.

      "Hey!  That wasn't part of the plan!" Fudge reacted.

      "Of course not," Dumbledore said, with an absolutely delighted twinkle in his eye.  "I believe I said she'd just convinced me."  Flamel, who had been relatively quiet up until now, guffawed loudly, and Dumbledore gave him an exaggeratedly hurt look over his shoulder.

      Buffy tore the letter open to see if it was in truth identical to the one that Willow had received.  It was, with one exception; the line at the bottom about acceptance not being optional was missing from Buffy's.

      "Great, so _I_ have to go to summer school, too?"

      "You don't have to, Buffy," Willow observed, reading Buffy's note.

      "What do you mean?  Of course I do.  You go, I go, simple as that."

      "Simplicity is good," Dumbledore affirmed nonchalantly.

      "Giles, is this for real?" Buffy asked, turning to her Watcher.

      Giles' eyes widened, as though there should never have been any doubt.  Nevertheless, he was sputtering.  "Hogwarts is the safest place in this world," he said slowly, but then he turned to Dumbledore.  "Professor!  You didn't tell me that …"

      "Do you think it a bad idea?"

      "Well, the Hellmouth has always had a Slayer guarding it."

      "I have arranged for Faith to be released from prison.  I believe she'll be more than capable of handling the hellmouth for some time, particularly as most demons in the area fled back to their home dimensions to avoid an apocalypse that never came."

      "OK, _now_ I think this is a bad idea," Giles said as soon as he heard Faith's name.

      "Aha, so you _were_ planning this the whole time!" Fudge cried.

      Dumbledore rolled his eyes at the ceiling, and Flamel mouthed a silent word that Fudge couldn't see.  Willow wasn't great at lipreading, but she would swear that it was 'idiot.'

      Buffy let out an exasperated breath, and turned to her redheaded friend.  "Will, this is your call, are you sure about this?"

      Willow closed her eyes, thought about it for a brief moment, and nodded.  Waking up in the same bed she had shared with Tara multiple times every night was not going to help her get over anything, and everywhere she walked in Sunnydale, she always felt that people were staring at her.  Even if they had their backs to her.  "I think I need to get away from here for a while, Buffy.  Every night I wake up and see …" she trailed off.

      Buffy paused, as though she were suddenly realizing what the last week had to have been like, even though she knew it had been hard on Willow.  A moment later, she nodded as well.  "All right, summer school, here we come," she sighed.  "You owe me one."

      Giles stood up, and gave them both an enormous hug.  Then he turned to Dumbledore.  "There is one last thing, sir.  Well, two—first, thank you, for everything you've done for Willow at the Ministry.  But, before you go through with this … aren't they a little old to be at Hogwarts?"

      "My turn?" Flamel said from the corner.

      "Indeed it is, Nicholas," Dumbledore answered, the twinkle back in his eye.

      Flamel's wheelchair rolled out across the rug, around the back of the couch, and over to the two girls.  Willow didn't think anything of that, until she realized that the wheelchair had no motor.  She took another look at the ancient man sitting in it, who returned her look knowingly.

      "Right," he said, in a voice that was both kind and gruff.  "We're going to have to do something about those years."

      "Those _what?_"

      "Years.  Hogwarts students usually begin 'round age ten.  Ye've been left alone 'cause of bein' on the Hellmouth and all.  But even Sixth Years, which ye'll be joinin' … well, do the math."

      "Sixteen," Willow confirmed.

      "Good.  'Least one o' ye's can add."

      "Hey!"

      "Ne'er mind.  Anyways, the two of ye's are both twenty-one, durn near twenty-two.  So that's a problem."

      "And you can fix that?"

      "'Course I can," Flamel answered with a satisfied grin, pulling two small vials from within his own robes.  The vials each held a deep, translucent, violet liquid that sparkled as though brilliant violet stars had been suspended in the mixture.

      "Drink up, ladies," he said as he handed the two girls the vials.

      "Two vials?  I _knew_ it, you were planning this from the beginning!" Fudge interjected.

      Flamel rolled his eyes at the ceiling and mouthed another word that Fudge couldn't see.  This time, it was 'bloody ponce.'

      Willow suddenly realized that Giles was looking at both of them intently.  "Should we not be drinking this?" she asked hesitantly.

      "Wha …?  Oh, no, I think you should, it's just … Mr. Flamel, you wouldn't happen to have any more of those vials?"

      Flamel and Dumbledore suddenly broke out laughing.  Dumbledore was still grinning as he said, "I believe Ripper misses his younger self."

      "You knew him as Ripper?" Buffy asked.

      "Of course.  I was one of his professors at Hogwarts.  Our dear Mr. Giles is class of 1972, I believe … dear me, is that thirty years ago now?"

      "Professor!"  Giles was practically whining.  Willow had never seen Giles whine.  Well, that was not technically accurate, she had seen him whine many times, but never like that.

      "Giles, you went to Hogwarts?"

      Giles let out a long breath.  "Class of '72, just like he said."

      "Oh, good, I'd hate to think I was losing my memory.  So it _was_ actually thirty years ag …"

      "Professor!"

      Willow looked at the potion in her hand, and noticed Buffy casting a similarly doubting look at hers.  "Will we lose our memories?" Willow asked, without looking at the man in the wheelchair.

      "'Course not!"  Flamel sounded offended.  "Ye think I'd 'a drunk it meself for six hundred years if I was gonna wake up wondering where I was every time?"

      Buffy and Willow turned and goggled at the man in the wheelchair.  _Six hundred years?_

      "Our dear Mr. Flamel wears his years quite well, all things considered," Dumbledore noted.

      "Wow," Willow gasped.

      Flamel grinned at their expressions.  "Nah, I worked all the kinks out a long time ago.  Doesn't affect nothin' but your bodies.  Minds, hearts, spirits, emotions, everything else is the same.  Bottoms up, ladies," he said.

      Willow and Buffy looked at each other again.  Then Willow pulled the stopper out of the top of her vial.  A moment later, Buffy did the same.  "If anything bad comes of this …" Buffy whispered into her friend's eyes, but then changed what she had been going to say, seeing Willow flinch.  She had forgotten how emotionally delicate Willow still was.  "… I'll still be prettier than you."

      Willow laughed, for the first time that Buffy had heard since that day on Kingman's Bluff.  "Which will make it much easier for you to pick up sixteen-year-olds at wherever we're going."

      Buffy wrinkled her nose.  "And Willow wins again," she said raising her vial.  Willow raised hers.

      "To youth?" Willow offered.

      "Hey, I'm not _that_ old," Buffy answered as she raised the vial to her lips.  They each swallowed their potions in one gulp.

      Even if it did nothing, Willow would not have called the drink wasted.  It was the most delicious drink she had ever tasted, and sent a tingle all the way from her toes to the roots of her hair.  She tried to put her finger on the flavor but couldn't; there were hints of honey, apricot, and viognier, but something more than that as well that she doubted she would ever grasp.  Looking at Buffy, however, there was little doubt as to the effects.  A ripple of bluish-green energy surged across the other girl's skin for a few moments, and then the girl Willow was looking at suddenly looked identical to the one that had moved to Sunnydale during their sophomore year of high school.  Her cheeks were softer and her eyes were younger and with fewer of the wrinkles that had developed over the past year since Willow had brought her back.

      "Little computer-nerd Willow walks among the living again," Buffy said before Willow could say anything, returning her look.

      On an instinct, Willow reached up and felt her hair.  It was long and straight again, and with more brown in the red than she had been used to seeing for the last few years.  "I'm going to have to get that trimmed before we leave," she mused.

      "You should talk," Buffy said, obviously uncomfortable about something.  "I forgot I was a cup size larger five years ago."  She turned to look at the men in the room daring them to say anything.  Giles looked mortified, which almost made her laugh; Fudge seemed rather uncomfortable, which Buffy found she didn't care much about.  Even Dumbledore looked rather sheepish.  Flamel was unfazed, however.  Withdrawing a wand from where it had lain at his side, he pointed it straight at her chest and spoke clearly, _"Aptaros."_  All of Buffy's clothes suddenly fit perfectly.

      "Wow, nice trick," Buffy admitted.  "Even if a little creepy."

      Willow nodded, and took a deep breath.  _"Aptaros,"_ she whispered under her breath, just to see what would happen.  Her clothes adjusted as well.  Flamel gave her an approving look, and Willow breathed a sigh of relief.  She had half expected someone to either attempt to counter the spell, or yell at her for using magic at all.  Giles had said something in the past few days about her learning to use it in moderation, however—she realized now that he was probably trying to prepare her for this, being sent away to a magic school—and it seemed as good a time as any to start.

      Dumbledore smiled and got to his feet.  "So that's settled then.  Buffy and Willow will be going to Hogwarts.  I'll see you in London."  With that, the three strangely-clothed men in the room all vanished as though they had never been there.

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**COMING SOON:**  Chapters 2 and 3, "Quality Quidditch Supplies."  Things start to get a little interesting before Buffy and Willow even get to Hogwarts.

**SNEAK PREVIEW:**

      _Willow cocked an eyebrow at Buffy.  "Making friends already?"_

_"Trying, but we haven't even gotten to names yet," Buffy answered._

_[…]_

_"Draco.  Draco Malfoy."_


	2. Welcome to England

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      **THANKS AGAIN **to _DragonKatGal_ for the plug in her latest chapter of _A Witch's Family_ … now if everyone could just politely go nag her to update _What You Did _… ;-0)

      Reviews always welcome!

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**      CHAPTER 2:**

**      WELCOME TO ENGLAND**

      "London!" Willow announced expansively as they disembarked at Heathrow.

      "You're looking better already."

      "I've always wanted to study abroad," Willow admitted.  She left unsaid that it did feel really good to get away from Sunnydale.  She would have stayed there as long as her friends were there, but it felt good to get away, and even better to get away with her best friend in the world and with a good excuse other than being petrified at the thought of what might happen to her at any moment to anyone living on the mouth of Hell.

      "Well, let's not dawdle," Buffy said, scanning the row of people just outside customs, holding up signs with people's names on them.  There had to be at least a hundred of them.  "This could take a while."

      "Umm … I kind of doubt it," Willow said nervously.

      "Why?  … Oh." Buffy answered, following Willow's gaze.

      A man was standing at the other end of the line, holding up a sign that said "Rosenberg" in bold maroon crayon.  At least, Buffy thought it was a man.  People were giving him a wide berth, probably just in case he lowered his arms.  He was easily the largest man Buffy or Willow had ever seen, nearly twice as tall as Buffy herself, and easily four times as wide.  He had a ragged mop of earthen-brown hair and a full, bushy beard.  Willow and Buffy approached him slowly.

      "Miss Rosenberg?" he asked politely, albeit with a thick brogue that sounded somewhat Scottish, although not entirely so.

      "Um … yeah …"

      "Pleasure to meet yeh," he said.  He sounded a lot like Nicholas Flamel, actually, even though they looked absolutely nothing alike—both gruff but pleasant and polite at the same time.  He extended an enormous hand for Willow to shake, which she did tentatively.  He seemed to be experienced at shaking smaller people's hands, at any rate, since he didn't jar her shoulder too badly.  Buffy gave him a much firmer handshake, but then again, she was still the Slayer; she probably wasn't thinking about how this man could have held her head as a wiffle ball.

      "And you are …"

      "Rubeus Hagrid," the man answered.  "Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

      "So you work for Dumbledore?" Willow asked.

      "Sure do," Hagrid answered.  "Ain't no one better to work for in the wiz … our world, and no place better 'n Hogwarts, neither."

      There really wasn't much either of them could say to that, so Buffy decided to ask the next obvious question.  "So where are we going?"

      "Well, shoppin', 'course," Hagrid answered quickly.  "Yeh both did bring yer lists, didn't yeh?"  Willow nodded.

      "Right then, well, we're off to Diagon Alley."

      Buffy had bought a map of London for tourists before coming, and immediately pulled it out.  She was much less comfortable than Willow being in an unfamiliar city.

      "Yeh won't find it on that," Hagrid warned her.

      "What?  Oh, right," she said, putting two and two together.

      The trip across town was interesting, to say the least; Hagrid got stuck once in the gates to the London Underground, and again on the way out, and took up three seats on the train, but seemed to take everything in stride, including the incredulous looks he got from passersby.  At least Buffy and Willow could say that they weren't worry about purse-grabbers.

      "Here we are!" Hagrid announced as they stopped outside the entrance to a dirty old tavern.  _The Leaky Cauldron_, the sign above it read.

      "This doesn't look like much of a store," Buffy ventured.

      "Nope," Hagrid agreed.  "The entrance is through the back."  Without another word, he ducked through the doorway and went in.  Willow and Buffy followed in his wake.

      With the exception of the fact that everyone within was dressed as outlandishly as the people who had teleported into Buffy's house only days earlier, the tavern looked fairly normal.

      "Summer schoolers?" the bartender asked as Hagrid passed the bar.

      "Yep.  Jest in from America this mornin'.  Foreign 'xchange kids."

      "Really?  Been a while since we had anyone from across the Pond."

      "Lotsa things changin' recently," Hagrid noted.

      "Amen to that," the bartender agreed, and the trio moved on to the patio in the back.  There was no door in sight.

      "I'm sort of not seeing it," Willow admitted.

      "Yer sorta not meant to," Hagrid agreed with a grin.  He walked to the wall at the back of the patio, and began moving some of the blocks in the wall around; they moved as easily as if they were only magnets on a refrigerator.  "Three up, two to the left," he muttered to himself, then tapped the wall with his walking stick.

      An opening appeared in the wall, which quickly spread outward until there was suddenly an inviting circular archway leading into a street that, had Willow gone out and walked around the building, she was sure she would not find.  There were all kinds of clearly 'wizarding' folk bustling around, and all kinds of quaint shops that looked vaguely like something out of a Renaissance fair, selling all kinds of things that Willow doubted she would find anywhere else.

      "Here it is!  Diagon Alley!" Hagrid announced, leading them through the archway.  Willow and Buffy both looked at each other, shrugged, and followed immediately.  They had both seen stranger sights.

      "Wow, it's like the Mall of Magic," Buffy observed as they walked on through the crowd.

      "Aren't we supposed to stop there?" Willow asked Hagrid, noting a sign over one of the stores that read _Flourish & Blotts_.  Another letter had told her where she was likely to find most of the stuff the two of them needed.

      "'Course, but ye'll be needin' money now, won't you?"

      "They don't take Visa?"

      "Eh?  What's Visa?"

      "Never mind."

      "No one in Diagon Alley's gonna take Muggle money.  Gonna take wizard money.  Knuts, sickles, and galleons, we call them … twenty-nine knuts to a sickle and seventeen sickles to a galleon, yeh'll pick it right up, we just need to get you some."

      "Um … right," Buffy said, her head hurting.

      "So, is there a bank somewhere where we can take out a loan?" Willow asked.  She had never expected to need a student loan in her life—Stanford had offered her a full ride, after all—but she had obviously not expected to be going to a place like this.

      "Ey, whaddaya take us for?" Hagrid answered.  "We weren't gonna make you start out like that.  Besides, yeh're new at all this, shouldn't be takin' loans from goblins anyway."

      "Goblins?" Buffy asked.

      "Goblins," Willow answered, pointing ahead of them to a building labeled _Gringott's Wizarding Bank_ on the corner of the block in front of them.  A creature in an official-looking suit stood outside it that was quite clearly a goblin.

      "Wow.  And we do business with goblins?"

      "Second-best security in the world, after Hogwarts," Hagrid replied.  "And right here in Diagon Alley, though their vaults are all over, underground."

      They had entered the bank by this time.  Hagrid quickly found an available teller and thrust Willow and Buffy forward in front of him.

      "Yes?" the teller asked.

      "Miss Summers and her friend'll be wantin' to make a withdrawal," Hagrid announced.

      The goblin looked up from where he had been scribbling in a book almost half as large as he himself.  "And do either of them have their key?"

      "I got it," Hagrid said.  "Oh, and they'll be needin' a copy, sharin' a vault and all."

      "Certainly," the goblin answered, taking the key from Hagrid.  A moment later, he was handing two keys back to the enormous man.

      "Right this way, please," the goblin continued, leading them off to a door behind the teller's desk.

      "We have a vault?" Buffy asked Hagrid.

      "And I'm just 'Miss Summers' friend'?" Willow asked.

      "What?  Oh, heh," Hagrid laughed.  "Yep, yeh've got a vault, a gift from Dumbledore.  Ministry insisted on it.  Sort of, anyway; they was all goin' off about how he needed to track where you spent money, 'specially you, Miss Rosenberg, beggin' yer pardon, so he comes back and says fine, he'll put you both on scholarship, then the bills'll come to him anyway."

      "That's … nice, I suppose, but I really don't want to be spending anyone else's money," Willow answered.

      "Well, 'course not, but yeh may not have much of a choice, yeh know.  Muggle money won't be workin' here.  Didn't sound like he was talkin' about much, 'fact it seemed like it was a little account he keeps around just fer helpin' people.  Not like yeh'll be impoverishin' the poor man, anyway, 'less yeh spend like crazy, which he doesn't seem to think yeh'll be doin'."

      "We won't," Buffy promised.

      "Vault 664," the goblin said, bringing the car to a halt.  They got out at a landing in front of a large steel door.  For some reason, once Willow had gotten out of the car, a strange shudder ran through her, a feeling like hearing a familiar sound just at the edge of hearing.  She cast a quick glance to her left, which for some reason felt like the direction from which the sensation had come, even though she had no way of knowing.  There was nothing but a rock wall there.  She shook it off a moment later.

The goblin took the key from Willow, inserted it into the lock, and a moment later, the door swung back.

      "Little?" Buffy mused in a hushed voice.

      The vault was nearly the size of Buffy's basement, and it was piled from floor to ceiling with stacks and stacks of coins.  Several piles gleamed with the dim, burnished glint of bronze and the moonlike glint of silver, but many clearly glowed with the unique radiance of gold.

      "Well, that's a pretty fer the eye an' no mistake," Hagrid said as his eyes adjusted to the light.

      "Goddess …" Willow whispered.

      "Well, come on, haven't got all day," Hagrid said, regaining his composure.  "Here."  He took two small belt pouches from within his coat somewhere and filled them with gold.  "That oughta be more 'n enough to buy everything yeh both need fer the year.  Oh, look, looks like Dumbledore's been here."  He pulled a note off the back of the door.

      Willow took it and read it.

      _Miss Rosenberg and Miss Summers,_

_      This vault is a Trust Fund.  The contents have nothing to do with how much you spend, unless in spending it you abuse an old man's trust.  Be good._

_      A.D._

Willow looked up at the piles of gold and silver again.  She would swear that she was reading the implications wrong, but Buffy saw the same thing in the note that she did.

      "Looks like someone still trusts you, Will," she said.  "Quite a bit, too."

      Willow buried her face in her hands and wept.

      Several minutes later, they left the vault; the goblin was getting impatient and was not the most emotional of characters.  Willow felt the same surge in the foyer of the vault that she had earlier, like a familiar presence nearby.  She shrugged it off again, however, and the goblin took them back up to the lobby.  Willow had almost forgotten about the chill by the time she and Buffy had gotten back out to the street, pouch of gold in hand.

      "Shopping?" Buffy asked cheerily.  For some reason, having a pouchful of wizard money seemed to be having a magical effect on her mood.

      "Shopping," Willow answered.

      For the next several hours, Buffy and Willow went from shop to shop, sometimes just browsing, sometimes actually buying things when they happened to come to shops that they had been told they would need to visit.  They also listened in on other kids gossiping about Hogwarts, and a few hushed whispers about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  They noticed a fairly large crowd clustered around numerous different pubs drinking butterbeer, but decided to leave that for another time; even in another country, they weren't ready to start drinking at four in the afternoon.

      Evening was setting, and the shops were getting ready to close, but Buffy and Willow were a long way from tired.  There were only two shops left to hit, anyway.  The sign above the first hung not from a bar or post, but from a broomstick, and the store was labeled _Quality Quidditch Supplies._  It seemed to be a popular store, particularly with the younger crowd, both inside and out; there was a small crowd of people even younger than Buffy and Willow were now clustered around the window outside, looking at, of all things, a broom.

      "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that isn't just for sweeping floors," Buffy surmised.

      "Not a chance," Willow said.  "They're definitely of the airborne variety.  And I think Quidditch is a game of some kind … remember those guys talking back in the bar?  They sounded just like guys talking about baseball back home."

      "Guys will be guys," Buffy agreed.

      "Should we stop?"

      "Do we need brooms?"

      "Maybe, especially if you're going to take a flying class.  Besides, it sounds like everyone has one by our year"

      "Might as well, then.  Just to blend in."

      The fawning over the new broom continued inside.  Buffy stopped to look a the plaque by the display: _Coming soon!  The new Skyfire, the latest in the Firebolt line!  Pre-order yours today, have it by fall!_

      "Doesn't sound so different from our world," Buffy mused as she followed Willow into the shop.

      Buffy noted that for all of the people browsing around and looking at things in the store, only one person was actually at the counter buying anything, a tall, flaxen-haired youth of about sixteen, maybe a year or two older, that seemed to be just filling out the height that he had recently acquired.  Buffy watched him idly out of the corner of her eye, a mischievous grin gradually spreading across her face.  The boy definitely had potential, she decided, giving him an appraising glance up and down while being as inconspicuous as possible.

      "When will it be coming in?" the boy was asking the shopkeeper.

      "Early September at the earliest, I'm afraid.  They're having to import wood from Canada because the harvest here was lousy.  But they'll have it in by season's start, or there'll be riots."

      "I need it by the start of practice season, not playing season," the boy answered.

      "Should be in by then.  The first ones are supposed to be all going to the national players, though."

      The boy wordlessly threw another few gold coins down on the counter.

      The shopkeeper grinned, thinking no one was watching, and slipped the coins into his back pocket.  "But there will always be a few spares," he noted dryly.

      "Excellent," the boy answered, and he turned away from the counter, further into the store.  Apparently he wasn't finished shopping.  However, it suddenly occurred to Buffy that she had been standing too long in one place, and Willow was already looking at a row of brooms along the back wall, simpler and less prominently displayed than the Skyfire prototype in the window.  Buffy walked over to join her.

      "See anything that catches your eye?"

      "Brooms," Willow answered honestly.  "They're all the same to me.  I could have brought one from my closet at home."

      "Don't look to me for help," Buffy answered.

      "Think we could ask someone else?"

      "Doesn't look like this place has people walking the floor," Willow answered.  "And I'm not exactly good with the whole asking strangers thing."

      Buffy grinned.  "But that's where I come in," she said, giving Willow a friendly pat on the back.  She turned around, already knowing who she was going to look for, and found him not far away, looking at what appeared to be a picture album of Quidditch moves: _Play Like A Viktor_, the title read, causing Buffy to wonder if 'victor' was spelled differently in England or if an editor somewhere had not done his job.

      "Excuse me," she asked, walking up to him.

      He put the book down and gave her a quizzical look.  "Yes?" he asked.

      "I … don't suppose I could ask you to give my friend and me a hand here?  We're kind of new at this."

      He looked about to blow her off, but for some reason seemed to think differently of it at the last moment, then shrugged.  "Sure, why not?  Not like I'm doing anything."

      Buffy smiled and brought him back over to where her friend was standing.

      Willow cocked an eyebrow at Buffy.  "Making friends already?"

      "Trying, but we haven't even gotten to names yet," Buffy answered.

      The blond-haired boy gave them both rather incredulous looks, then shrugged with a wry smile.  "You don't know me?  I take it you're new in town?  I guess you sound like it, don't you?  Americans?"

      "Born in the USA," Buffy answered with a smile.  "And should we know you?"

      "An awful lot of people seem to," the boy answered, and actually grimaced.

      "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

      "It has its ups and downs.  Right now, mostly downs."

      "Sorry to hear that.  But can you tell us anyway?"

      "What?  Why …?  Oh, just the name part.  Right.  Draco.  Draco Malfoy."

      "Buffy Summers," Buffy answered, "and my best friend in the world, Willow Rosenberg."

      "Pleased to meet you," he answered formally, with a slight incline of his head.  For some reason, Buffy got the distinct feeling that this boy did not come from a poor household.  There was an aristocratic air about him.  He didn't wear it as arrogantly as he might have, but there was enough of it there for her to feel.

      "So anyway, we're new at all this … can you tell us exactly what we should be looking for in a broom?"

      Draco smiled.  "Depends on what you want it for, and how much you're willing to pay."

      Willow gave a hesitant shrug, but Buffy answered simply, "we're not poor.  Just not up to buying Skyfires."

      Draco grinned.  "Fair enough.  Well, if you want a comfortable ride, the Cloud Nine series is probably a good bet—smooth and reliable.  Been around forever, too.  For a little more adventure, a Comet Two-Sixty or Cleansweep Seven are still common models, though they're getting a little old; everyone used to use them.  Not the best, but not the worst.  If you want to play competitive Quidditch, the Firebolt is a great buy at the moment, because with the Skyfire coming out, it's not going to be top of the line anymore.  It'll still cost you a bit, though.  Some other good models are the old Nimbuses; they still make them all the way back to the original Nimbus 2000, though they're up to the 2004 right now.  Not quite as flashy as the Firebolt, but the older models won't cost you so much any more."

      "Wow, you really know your stuff," Buffy said approvingly.  "I think I actually understood it, and I've never been on a broom before."

      _"Never?"_ Draco was stunned.  "What year are you going into?"

      "Sixth," Buffy admitted.

      "Didn't you have to take flying lessons your first year in America?"

      "Not exactly," Buffy admitted uncomfortably.

      "It's all right," Willow said.  "I think I've heard enough.  Definitely Cloud Nine for me."  She reached up and picked one off the rack.

      Buffy looked for a few more minutes, Draco following her eyes where they went.  Eventually, her eyes settled on one hanging from the ceiling nearly directly above her; it was smooth and black, with gold inlays, and a streamlined tail.  She raised her arm, palm upward as if to catch it if it were to fall.  For some reason, that broom gave her a different feeling in her mind when she looked at it.

      "That one!" she said.

      Suddenly, the broom pulled free of the strap that had held it aloft and dove into Buffy's outstretched hand.  Her eyes widened, and she nearly dropped it.  Willow backed up a step.

      "Hey, it likes you," Draco said with a grin.

      "I guess so."  Buffy actually did like the feel of the broom in her hands; it felt … natural, somehow.  She wasn't completely sure she wasn't going crazy, but it felt good.

      "Is that a good one?" Willow asked.  "It looks good … if it's possible for a broom to look good …"

      "Of course it does," Draco said with an impish grin.  "It's a Nimbus 2001.  I've been using one just like it for four years now."

      "Really?"  Buffy was surprised.  "Well, if it worked for you, I guess it can work for me."

      "I love it," Draco agreed.  "But I've got to warn you, it can be too fast for its own good sometimes.  Don't get it unless you're in really good shape, it can be tough to hold onto."

      Buffy grinned.  "I'll be all right."

      Draco shrugged.  "Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

      "I won't," Buffy answered.

      "Are you staying at the school this summer?"

      "Hogwarts?"

      "There aren't any other schools in England."

      "Sorry, I didn't know.  Yeah, I'll be there."

      "Splendid.  I'm staying there, too.  Maybe I can teach you how to fly that thing."

      "Sounds great," Buffy answered with a smile.

      For some reason, Draco seemed actually surprised to hear that response from Buffy.  Buffy arched an eyebrow at him, and he seemed to be at a loss for words.

      "Well, I'll see you there whenever you get there," he said.  "Which train are you taking?"

      Willow and Buffy looked at each other and shrugged.  "Not sure," Buffy answered.  "Whichever one Hagrid puts us on, I guess."

      Draco's eyes clouded at the mention of Hagrid's name, and Buffy was about to ask why, but Draco didn't seem to want to talk about it.  "All right, then, well, if I don't see you on the train, I'll see you at school."

      "Sounds great," Buffy said again.

      "Later," he said, turning and walking out of the store.

      There was a brief pause, then Willow whispered in Buffy's ear, "I think he likes you."

      Buffy spun around and was about to give a sharp retort, then settled for a modest shrug and a mischievous smile.  A moment later, she held up her broom.  "Ready to move on?" she asked.

      "I think so," Willow answered, beginning to move to the counter.

      "One shop left," Buffy answered.  "Been quite a day."

      "It has," Willow answered.  "Been a while since we just got to shop and talk to boys.  Almost feels normal.  Except for the whole, you know, buying flying brooms part."

      Buffy grinned as she placed the two brooms on the counter and began counting out galleons from her purse.  She hoped she hadn't spent too much on her broom; she hadn't realized it was more than twice as expensive as Willow's, and she felt kind of guilty.  She was glad there was only one shop left.

      "So what's our last stop of the day?" Buffy asked as the two of them exited Quality Quidditch Supplies.

      "That's the one," Willow said, pointing at the shop catty-corner across the street.  It was a simple and aged-looking shop, but nonetheless well-kept.  The sign above the door read:  

_Ollivander's_

_Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C._

            *           *           *           *           *

**COMING SOON:** Chapter 3, "Choices of Wands."  Buffy and Willow are both chosen by some rather atypical wands, and Willow gets a subtle hint that her past may not want to let her go just yet.

**SNEAK PREVIEW: **_Willow looked horrorstruck.  "I don't want this," she gasped hoarsely._

_"Ah, but it is not entirely your decision to make.  As Ollivander has no doubt told you, the wand chooses the wielder as much as the wielder the wand.  Besides, if I truly believed you wanted to wield it, I wouldn't be giving it to you."_

_"Why wasn't something like that destroyed?" Buffy asked._


	3. The Wand Chooses the Wielder

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      **THANKS** to all reviewers!

      _"unknown reviewer,"_ I will eventually return to _Origins_ if I have the time; I'm doing some reworking of how ambitious I want to make it; I think I might have undertaken too much and I'm looking for a way to bring it back down into more manageable proportions.  This one will get more serious, though, I promise.

      _ShadowElfBard … _"god," not "goddess," thank you very much. ;-)

      _DragonKatGal,_ you continue to rock, and thanks for the defense on the gender issue. ;-)

      **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**  In case you didn't catch the 'shipper abbreviations at the beginning, Willow is not gay in this fic, she's bi, whatever the ultimate verdict from the series and its fans might have been.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 3:**

**      THE WAND CHOOSES THE WIELDER**

      There was no one at the desk, or elsewhere in sight, as Buffy and Willow entered Ollivander's.  The shop was dimly lit, and consisted of nothing but rows and rows of shelves stacked floor to ceiling with long, thin boxes, almost like shoeboxes, only thinner.

      "Uh … is there a bell to ring for service anywhere?" Buffy wondered quietly.

      "Doesn't look much like I expected a wand shop to look like," Willow admitted.

      "And what exactly did you expect a wand shop to look like?"

      "Good point.  Just, not much like the other shops."

      "Yeah, I mean, not even any cute boys in this one."

      Buffy made a face at Willow.

      "I guess I am a little past my prime," a voice said from above them.

      Buffy and Willow jerked and turned their eyes upward together.  There was a balcony around the second level, and an old man had just come into view along it.

      "Half a moment!" he said, moving over to a stepladder that led down to the ground floor.  Within moments, he was behind the counter.  "Well, well, newcomers, I do believe?  It's been quite some time since anyone your age was coming here for a first wand, but I don't remember seeing you before."

      "We're from America," Willow told him.

      "And so you are," Ollivander said with a smile, noting their accents.  "Quite a ways you've come for my humble shop.  Going to Hogwarts, I presume?"

      "Seems so," Willow confirmed.

      "Well then, never too late to start, then, is it?  Let's see what we can get for you."  He pulled a small box from behind the counter and handed it to Buffy.  "Start with that one," he said.  "Nine inches, holly, dragon's heartstring."

      Buffy reached into the box and lifted out the wand.  It didn't really feel like anything special in her hands.  She'd had much more of a reaction from holding her new broom.

      "Well, give it a wave," Ollivander said after a moment.

      Buffy looked at Willow and shrugged.  "Not at me," Willow said pointedly.

      Buffy grinned.  She hadn't thought of that.  Tempting as it was, she picked an empty spot on the ceiling and waved the wand at it.

      There was a popping sound, but nothing happened to the ceiling.  Ollivander merely shrugged, however, and motioned for her to put the wand back in the box.  The next wand he gave her set off a small explosion at its tip, burning Buffy's hand.  Ollivander apologized profusely and put the wand away.  The next one slipped out of Buffy's hand as though it were made of grease.  Ollivander didn't even have her try it.

      Seven wands later, Ollivander was throwing up his hands in dismay.  "I'm really off my game today," he said.  "It's hasn't taken me more than five tries since 1965."

      "I'm not trying to be difficult," Buffy apologized, feeling that she had to be doing something wrong somehow.

      "No, no, it's certainly not your fault, I should be a pro at this by now."  He paused thoughtfully.  Then, a moment later, he turned and gave a quizzical look at her.  "What did you say your name was again?"

      "My name?"  Buffy was puzzled.  She hadn't given her name, actually, but she saw no reason not to.  "Buffy.  Buffy Summers."

      "Aha!" Ollivander's eyes suddenly lit up.  "Of course, I might have known.  I think I have one for you."  With that, he pulled his own wand out of his belt, pointed it at the floor behind the counter, and chanted, _"Alohamora."_

      A hatch sprang up in the floor, revealing a long, flat storage space underneath it.  Ollivander picked a box from within it that was far more ornate than any he had handed Buffy thus far.  "Try that one," he said, with a secretive smile on his face.

      Buffy could tell there was something different about this one the moment she lifted the lid off the box.  She picked it up, and a surge of power ran through her, and there was a rushing sound as though a stiff wind were blowing through the room.  The wand glowed with a warm golden light as soon as she touched it, like dim sunlight.  It was a lot like the broom … it felt natural, like it was familiar to her somehow.

      "Definitely," Ollivander said, a satisfied expression on his face.  "Miss Summers, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that your wand is no ordinary wand.  Ten inches.  Oak.  Nothing really unusual there, though it's rare for oak to choose women, but it's the core that makes the real difference.  Almost every wand I sell has either a phoenix feather, a dragon's heartstring, or unicorn's tail at its core.  Your wand, however, has more than just a phoenix feather.  This phoenix feather was soaked for three days in holy water imported all the way from Sunnydale before it was implanted into this wand."

      "A little piece of home."

      "Quite right, quite right.  Oak and phoenix feather make quite a fighter's wand to begin with.  I do hope you stay out of trouble at school."

      "Oh boy, school hasn't even started yet and I'm already getting warnings."

      Ollivander smiled.  "And now, Miss Rosenberg, let's see what we can do for you."

      "Aren't you about to close?"

      "Nonsense, nonsense, you were here well before close, we'll stay until we find you a wand.  Hopefully my touch will be back."

      But Ollivander's touch was not back, and indeed, it seemed to have abandoned him even more completely than it had before.  The store was supposed to close at five, but six o'clock came and went, then seven, then eight, then nine.  Willow's arm was tired from waving around so many wands, many of which clearly wanted nothing to do with her, and Ollivander's shop was beginning to look like a small war zone from a dozen or so wands that had quite violently expressed their intention not to work with her.

      "You know, it's getting late, maybe we should go, we can come back tomorrow," Buffy offered.

      "No!" Ollivander retorted, with surprising vehemence.  "I've never failed to find someone a wand and I'm not going to start with you!"

      "It's not failing, it's just … delaying," Buffy offered.

      "Come now, come now, we'll find it, just a few more."

      But a few more, then several more, then a lot more came and went, and still no wand seemed to find Willow an attractive soul mate.  Eventually, even Willow, who had been trying to accept everything as meekly as possible, gave in.  "You know, maybe I'm just not meant to use a wand.  I've been doing fine for five years now without wands."

      "A natural, eh?" Ollivander said with a shrug.  "It's still better with a wand.  You'll have more control and be able to focus your power more strongly.  Plus, it's just a mark of character," he said, ending rather stuffily.  He was plainly rattled at having not found Willow a wand.  It was almost ten o'clock.

      "What is it exactly I'm supposed to feel?"

      "Will, it was like meeting someone you've known but not seen for a while, or a long-lost relative.  It feels like a familiar presence nearby."

      "I felt that earlier today," Willow admitted absentmindedly.  "Down in Gringott's."

      "Hmm.  OK.  Somehow I doubt they have wands down there, though."

      "Of course not," said Ollivander.  "Our shop put every other wand seller in Diagon Alley out of business centuries ago."  There was a strange look in his eyes as he said that, however, as though he had remembered something in mid-sentence.  Whatever it was, however, he dismissed it a moment later.

      "Mr. Ollivander, I'm sure that you're very good at what you do, but I really don't think we're getting anywhere with this."

      Ollivander's shoulders slumped.  "I think you're right," he admitted.  "Gracious, I never thought this day would come.  Well, there's only one person who knows more about wands than me, so I'll write to Dumbledore immediately.  Do stop by tomorrow."

      "Sure thing," Buffy promised, as she paid for her wand and followed Willow out the door.

      "Well that was disappointing," Willow admitted.

      "It's OK, we're in no rush," Buffy pointed out.  "Let's grab dinner and pack it in early.  I'm beat.  Feel like I've been patrolling all night.  I can only imagine how you're feeling."

      "Like I'm about to fall asleep right here," Willow admitted.  "Come on.  First place with a room, we're taking."

      That turned out to be not far away, a small bed and breakfast just off the main street of Diagon Alley called the Horse and Lion; there was only a single-bed room available, but they weren't about to go running around trying to find a better place.  The smell of butterbeer was tempting, but the two girls were both exhausted from spending so many hours at Ollivander's, and they both went straight up to bed.

      For a few hours, anyway.

      A knock on their door brought them both awake in the middle of the night.  It was almost three in the morning.

      "Man, I thought everyone went to bed earlier in England," Willow groaned as she pulled on her slippers, smoothed out her nightshift, and answered the door.

      It was Dumbledore.

      "Good morning, Miss Rosenberg," he greeted her politely.

      "Morning?  Dumbledore, it's three a.m., don't you ever sleep?"

      "Of course not," Dumbledore answered with that familiar twinkle in his eye.  "But that's a different story.  I came as soon as I heard."

      "It's only been a few hours.  We've barely gotten to sleep."

      "Well, I hear about things quickly."

      Buffy was awake by this time, too.  "I guess I'm usually up this late," she admitted, "but why am I up this late tonight?"

      "Actually, I was just coming for Willow.  There is something I may have for her."

      "Really?  What is it?"

      "It's in Gringott's, actually.  Mr. Ollivander informs me that you felt the sense that one should get when one finds one's first wand when you were down in the vaults earlier today."

      "I … did, actually, sort of, though I don't really know how that is supposed to feel."

      "Well, there's only one way to find out," Dumbledore finished peremptorily.  "Would you accompany me?"

      "Is there some reason I'm not coming?" Buffy asked.

      "There is," Dumbledore admitted.  "If Willow would like to tell you about it when she gets back, that of course will be her choice."

      "Let Buffy come.  Please.  I'm not hiding anything from her."

      Dumbledore smiled.  "I rather thought you might say that.  But I did at least have to give you the option."

      Willow shrugged.  "Whatever.  Give us a moment to get dressed."

      Dumbledore shrugged in return.  "Actually, I'm afraid I don't have much time here."  He waved his wand.  _"Apparelate,"_ he whispered.  Both Buffy and Willow were clothed in the clothes they had worn earlier that day, only miraculously free of any stains or wrinkles.  They didn't get a chance to make any comments about it, however, as Dumbledore was already leaving.

      "Won't the bank be closed?" Buffy asked as she caught up with him.

      "Certainly," Dumbledore admitted.  "But I have a kind of special access."

      "We aren't breaking in, are we?"

      "Of course not."

      "Just checking."

      Dumbledore led them out of the Horse and Lion, up Diagon Alley, and through the alley in the rear of Gringott's.  Dumbledore stopped against a blank wall and drew the outline of a door on it, then pushed.  A door opened exactly as if his drawing the outline of it had created it.  He led them inside.  A small elevator took them quickly down into the upper tunnels, and it did not take long for Dumbledore to find an unused cart and set them off along the rails.  He seemed to know his way through the tunnels as well as any Gringott's goblin.

      "This is your vault, yes?" Dumbledore asked outside vault 664.

      "Yeah, that's the one," Buffy answered.

      "Can you feel it?" Dumbledore asked Willow.

      "No, it was only in the foyer."

      "Let's go one more," Dumbledore said.  He moved over to vault 665.

      "I feel it again!" Willow said again.  Her eyes narrowed.  "But it's not from straight ahead.  It's like it's coming from the wall."

      "That, Miss Rosenberg, can by explained by the very simple explanation that you are indeed correct."

      "Excuse me?"

      "Let's go almost one more," Dumbledore said again.  He moved on and stopped midway between vaults 665 and 666.

      "Um … what's going on?" Buffy asked.

      Dumbledore smiled.  "I have a secret vault here.  Vault 665½."  He raised his wand, and called out, _"Lapisa aperiri."_

      The stone wall where Dumbledore had been pointing grew hazy and indistinct, and melted away like a mirage.  Dumbledore got out of the car and stepped into the tiny opening where the slab had vanished, barely three feet across.  There was a massive silver door behind it.

      Dumbledore placed his hand on the door.  "It's me," he said casually.

      The silver door swung inward, revealing a chamber that was much larger than the vault Willow and Buffy had visited earlier; indeed, it was much too large to be squeezed in between two actual vaults.  It was nearly half the size of a football field.  It was not piled with gold, however.  It was lined with crates and shelves packed with items of all descriptions, as well as several larger items that were big enough to stand freely on the floor, though many were covered with cloth, as if to keep them from being looked at; the nearest such was a large three-paned floor-length mirror, right next to the entrance.  

      Dumbledore went immediately to one of the shelves in the middle of the room, and took down a small, thin box that could have been right at home at Ollivander's, except that the wood was pitch black and looked almost as though it had been burned in places.  A design of a serpent, of an even darker black than the box, if that were possible, spiraled down the lid.  Dumbledore handed it to Willow, who realized that the feeling in her mind had been growing stronger.

      "Try this one," he said, handing the box to her.

      Willow took the box and opened it.  A wand lay within, as she had expected.  The moment she saw it, the feeling within her crescendoed to a fever pitch, and she knew that this was the wand Ollivander couldn't find for her in his shop before she even picked it up.  She closed her fingers around the handle.

      An aura of baleful green energy erupted around her, pulsating and undulating with her breathing, which suddenly became much heavier.  Voices spiraled across her consciousness, some human, some somehow less so, almost serpentine, yet all somehow comprehensible, accompanied by a faint music with dark, predatory overtones.  The aura around her began to crackle, and livid swirls of electricity and fire began to swirl around the fringes of it like a corona, particularly around her head, so that it looked to Buffy as though Willow were wearing a crown of twisting, interlocking serpents of lightning and flame.  She took a nervous step back.

      The images began to fade, and the aura and energy began to retreat, some of it going into the wand, more of it seeming to settle into Willow's flesh.  Moments later, it was all gone.  Willow's breathing was still coming heavily, however.

      "What … was … that?" she asked.

      "I think we've found your wand," Dumbledore said simply.

      "But this is …"

      "As I believe Mr. Ollivander would say here: thirteen-and-a-half inches.  Yew.  Basilisk's fang core."

      "Dangerous," Willow breathed.  Buffy didn't know what Willow was talking about but trusted her friend's judgment on almost all things magical.

      Dumbledore nodded.  "Indeed.  Most of the items you see in this room have lain here undisturbed for sixteen years.  You see, I took most of these items from different strongholds of Voldemort's after his defeat sixteen years ago.  He forged that wand you are holding himself only weeks before he fell to young Harry.  Wizards seldom change wands, and it takes some time to learn to use a new wand after any length of time with an old one.  He was still learning to use it, and it had not yet become his principal weapon, but there is no doubt that had he done so, it would have been among the most deadly artifacts in history."

      Willow looked horrorstruck.  "I don't want this," she gasped hoarsely.

      "Ah, but it is not entirely your decision to make.  As Ollivander has no doubt told you, the wand chooses the wielder as much as the wielder the wand.  Besides, if I truly believed you wanted to wield it, I wouldn't be giving it to you."

      "Why wasn't something like that destroyed?" Buffy asked.

      Dumbledore shrugged.  "Certainly many wished to do so.  Many of Voldemort's possessions were.  However, unlike many in our world, I have never believed that Voldemort was dead, and I always harbored the fear that one day he would rise again."

      "You kept these things to study them," Buffy surmised.

      Dumbledore nodded.  "Good or evil, nothing reveals who and what we truly are more than the work of our own hands.  In this room may lie more of the works of Lord Voldemort's craft than even he has at the moment, so recently returned to power is he."

      "So keep it, study it, but don't give it to me!" Willow cried.  "This is the kind of thing I'm supposed to be getting away from."

      "No," Dumbledore answered, and with surprising firmness.  "If you were supposed to be getting away from it, I would have suggested taking you to Siberia.  That is the kind of thing that you are supposed to be learning to control.  And … Willow, trust me when I say this, as I have trusted you so far … you _can_ learn to control it."

      Willow didn't say anything for a long minute.  Eventually, Buffy reached out and put a hand on her friend's arm.  Willow's shoulders sagged.  This was going to be even harder than most punishments she could have dreamed of for herself only days earlier.

      Dumbledore smiled, seeing in her posture that she had accepted what he was saying.  He wasn't entirely sure he believed it himself, but she did, and that was the important thing at the moment.

      "One more thing," Dumbledore said.  "It might not be a good idea to mention anything about either that wand or this vault from now on."

      "Of course," Willow agreed.  Buffy nodded her assent a moment later.  She certainly had no intention of telling anyone about this.

      "Good.  Now, do get some sleep; you won't want to miss the train the train in the morning."  With that, he led them back to the car and back to the surface.

      *           *           *           *           *

**      COMING SOON:** Chapter 4, "The Hogwarts Express."  Buffy and Willow run into a certain tousle-haired young wizard on their way to catch the train from platform 9¾.  Wackiness ensues.

**      SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_      "Oh, no, come on," the boy said, pulling her after him.   Willow needed no urging, running forward as fast as her legs could carry her, but in her sixteen-year-old bookworm's body, that was not as fast as needed.  The train chugged past the end of the platform only seconds ahead of the running pair._

_      The boy muttered a curse, then turned to her, scowling at the people behind her who were giving them sympathetic but helpless expressions.  "Do you trust me?" he asked earnestly._

_      "I … think so …" Willow answered._


	4. The Hogwarts Express

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      **MORE THANKS TO** …

      _Lisette … _great to hear from you at long last!  Good to hear the moving nightmares are drawing to a close!

      _DragonKatGal, Lisette _(again!)_, Ranae, _and everyone else who took time to write a more in-depth review or e-mail.  I always enjoy reading those!  (Plus I've always been jealous of the length of the reviews that _Minerva McTabby_ tends to receive.)

      _All new readers!_  Thanks for taking the time to look over my humble work.  Special thanks to those who took the time to review individual chapters as they went!  I sincerely appreciate it.

      All reviews always welcome!  I hope everyone is enjoying this so far!

            *           *           *           *           *

      **CHAPTER 4:**

      **THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS**

      "Ergh," Buffy groaned as the first rays of sunlight fell across her eyelids.

      Willow stirred in the bed next to her, though only to scrunch up tighter in an attempt to avoid the sun.  "Ergh," the redhead agreed.

      "Ergh," Buffy groaned again.  Then, "What time is it?"

      Willow stretched out at looked at her watch.  "10:30."  Then she took another look.  "10:30?!"

      Buffy bounded out of bed, peeling her nightdress off as she did and practically diving for her suitcase.  "Dammit, we slept in!  We'll never make it in time!"

      "You could always fly," Willow kidded, rousing herself much more gradually.  All things considered, she was in a good mood this morning, even despite the events of the previous night, because for the first night in a long time, her sleep had been untroubled by nightmares of Tara.  She had also fallen asleep with her nose in a book, the _Beginner's Book of Spells_ that had been on their reading list, something she had always enjoyed doing but hadn't done a long time.

      "And you could always move," Buffy retorted.

      "Relax," Willow said, pulling her new wand from out of its case.  She made a gesture in the air and said, _"Apparelate."_  Buffy and Willow were both completely dressed.

      Buffy's eyes widened.  "You're learning quickly."

      "I think you will, too, once we get into things.  You're a Slayer, after all."

      "Will, I'm going to be taking classes, but you know I'm really here just to be with you."

      Willow shrugged.  "I bet Dumbledore won't see it that way.  Nor any teachers, probably, though we haven't met any yet.  We know teachers."

      Buffy groaned again.

      "Now I just wish I knew something for showers and hair," Willow mused.

      "Never mind.  We're going low-maintenance today.  We've got to make that train, or we'll be completely lost."

      They scrambled all the way down the stairs, out the door, up Diagon Alley, and out into the streets of Muggle London.  Fortunately, it was after the morning rush, and they were able to travel more quickly without Hagrid with them.  On the other hand, they were pulling a lot of suitcases with them; Buffy ended up carrying five suitcases at a time—all three of her own and two of Willow's—up and down several flights of stairs in the different Tube stations.  They finally made it to King's Cross at 10:50.

      "Come on, we still have to make the train!" Buffy said as they leapt off the Tube at the station.  Willow was right behind her.  Willow noticed that Buffy was getting a lot of strange looks from passersby alert enough to see how much she was carrying, but she was not about to say anything at the moment.

      They made it to the main lobby adjacent to the platforms.  "What platform are we?" Buffy called out to Willow.  The Slayer had no hands free to look at their tickets.

      "Er … this makes no sense … it says 9¾."

      "Do platforms come in fractions?"

      "Not that I know of," Willow answered flatly.

      "Well, let's just get to between platforms nine and ten.  Maybe someone there can help us."

      There was an aisle that ran between platforms nine and ten; platform nine was on one side, platform ten on the other.  There was nothing in between but a row of brick columns.

      "So now what?"  Buffy panted.  "Just stop someone and ask, 'hey, where's platform 9¾?'"

      "I don't know," Willow answered.  "See if you see anyone that looks … you know … odd."

      "Right," Buffy answered, remembering how everyone in Diagon Alley had looked.

      Suddenly, Buffy's supernatural hearing picked up a pair of voices shouting and running not far away.

      "Harry, if we're late again, Mum's gonna kill me.  Maybe even you, too."

      "Relax, Ron, we've got five minutes.  The train leaves for Hogwarts at eleven sharp—and unlike most trains here, it runs on time."

      "Five minutes isn't much time!" the other voice answered him.  "A lot can go wrong … remember your elf friend?"

      "Don't be such a pessimist," the second boy's voice spoke again.  Buffy finally got a glimpse of the two of them.  Both were wearing robes that could have been normal, but Buffy recognized them, because she had one just like it in her suitcase.  In addition, both were pushing trolleys, and one of the items on the second trolley was an owl in a cage.  Buffy had seen enough of them in Diagon Alley to know what she was looking at.

      "Will!" she called.  Willow turned around.  Buffy pointed after the two boys, who were already running further down the platform.  "Follow them!"  Willow immediately picked out the two and followed them, Buffy right behind her.

      The two boys were only steps ahead of them when they appeared to veer off course.  The red-haired one, leading the charge, careened straight for one of the brick pillars, and Buffy flinched in advance of the collision.

      The collision never came.  The boy and his trolley vanished into the pillar as if it weren't even there, save that he didn't come out the other side.

      "Wait!" Willow called to the one remaining boy.

      The boy turned around.  He had an unruly mop of black hair that had the look of hair that would not lie straight despite the best intentions of its owner.  He wore a fairly nondescript pair of glasses.  Like the boy they had met the previous day, Draco, he seemed to be just filling out the height that he had gained over the previous few years.  When he saw Willow, he seemed to flinch inexplicably for a moment, but regained control of himself quickly, though he spoke as though he were in a rush.

      "Umm …"

      "Listen, you're going to Hogwarts, right?" Willow asked, just loud enough for the boy to hear her.

      "Sure," the boy answered.

      "Sorry, we're American exchange students, this is our first time here … can you tell us …?"

      "Ah, how to get to 9¾?" the boy seemed to understand, and seemed to be a bit relieved, as though he had been expecting Willow to attack him or something.  "Don't worry, I needed help my first time, too.  Real simple, though.  Just run straight into the pillar."

      "No … spells … first?"

      "Nope, it's all already in the barrier.  If you're accepted into Hogwarts, you'll get through."

      "Nifty," Willow answered with a smile, and the boy gave her a warm smile in return.

      "Why don't I go first?" Buffy offered.  Willow nodded.  Just in case this didn't work, Buffy could handle running into a wall.

      "Best to go at a bit of a run," the boy added.

      Buffy lined herself up and ran straight at the wall.  Willow watched her run forward … and vanish.  "Wow," she said.  She had half expected the boy to have been playing a joke on her and to have to pick up the contents of her luggage from all over the platform.

      "Why don't you go next?" the boy offered.  "I'll go last."

      "S-sure," Willow answered.  She was getting nervous already.  She took a deep breath, and started for the pillar.

      She skidded to a halt a few feet shy of the wall.  "I can't do this," she said breathlessly.

      "Sure you can.  Once more.  Just like she did, go at a bit of a run."

      Willow tried once more, and choked at the last instant, skidding to a halt in front of the forbidding brick.

      The boy cast an eye up at the clock on the wall, and Willow followed his gaze.  It was 10:58.

      "I can't do this, I can't do this," Willow mouthed again.

      The boy smiled.  "Here," he said.  He cast his own trolley in front of him and through the brick portal.  The boy himself stayed behind, however.  Willow did not have a trolley, and all she had left was one suitcase, so he could not tell her to do the same with her own to show that it worked.

      "Come on," he encouraged her, sticking a hand into the brick to show that the portal was still open.

      "I …" Willow was having flashbacks to the times she had politely declined to go skydiving, or bungee jumping, or white-water rafting, and this seemed like an even less intelligent idea.

      The boy was still smiling at her, at least.  That was comforting.  It just wasn't quite giving her the confidence to run headlong into a brick wall.

      The boy came over and took her suitcase, casting it through the wall as well.  He then turned around one more time.  "Ready?" he asked.

      "Not really," Willow admitted with a leaden feeling in her stomach.

      "It's OK, we'll do it together," he said.  He took her hand, and turned her around so that she would be backing through the gate, facing him instead of the brick wall.  For some reason, that seemed to give her an extra shot of confidence.  She forced her breathing to steady.

      "Right," she said after a moment, casting a glance up at the time.  The boy seemed to have lost track of it.  It was 10:59 and thirty seconds.  It was now or never.  "Let's go," she said.

      The boy nodded, and gradually eased her back through the gate, never letting go of her eyes with his own until they were through, and Willow suddenly found herself looking at a brick wall materializing behind the boy that had not been there before.

      "Wow," she breathed again.  The two held each other's eyes for another moment, until a train whistle startled them.

      Buffy and the red-haired boy were standing on the balcony on the rear car of the train, shouting frantically for them to hurry up.  All of their luggage had already been loaded; a red-haired woman who had to be the other boy's mother was just loading Harry's last suitcase, and passing up a thinner, longer, separately wrapped bundle.  Suddenly, with a lurch, the train started to move.

      "Oh, no, come on," the boy said, pulling her after him.   Willow needed no urging, running forward as fast as her legs could carry her, but in her sixteen-year-old bookworm's body, that was not as fast as needed.  The train chugged past the end of the platform only seconds ahead of the running pair.

      The boy muttered a curse, then turned to her, scowling at the people behind her who were giving them sympathetic but helpless expressions.  "Do you trust me?" he asked earnestly.

      "I … think so …" Willow answered.

      The boy turned and pulled a wand from within his robes and pointed it at the train.  _"Accio Firebolt!"_ he called.

      Willow saw something rise up off of the platform where Buffy and the taller boy were still standing with their luggage.  A moment later, she saw it was a broomstick, and that it was flying right for them.  A moment later, the boy caught it in his hand.  A moment after that, he was astride it, holding out his hand to help her mount behind him.

      "I don't know about this," Willow said, the leaden feeling in her stomach returning.  She looked into the boy's eyes again for confidence, and for some reason, found it there.  "Not too fast?" she said.

      "Sure, just hurry up before the train picks up any more speed."

      Willow nodded and did her best to swallow the butterflies in her stomach.  Even though she did understand what they boy was saying about getting there before the train really got moving, it took her a minute to find a position where she didn't feel like she was going to fall off the moment the boy kicked off.  She ended up holding the boy around the waist as tightly as she could, her head tucked down in the small of the boy's back.

      "Not too fast," she reminded him.  "I've never flown before."

      "Seriously?" the boy was genuinely surprised.  "Wow … never mind, let's just …"

      "Wait!" Willow called.

      "What?" the boy asked.

      "Just … tell me your name first."

      For some reason, a tension that Willow hadn't even noticed was there seemed to flow out of the boy's shoulders and arms as she said that.  He turned around and gave her another winsome smile.  "Harry," he said.  "Harry Potter."

      With that, he kicked into the air, and true to his word, he stayed low to the ground and didn't go that quickly, at least not at first.  They had delayed long enough to let the train pick up some speed, however, so he was forced to gradually increase their pace.  The wind caught Willow's hair and it streamed out behind her like a banner, and the breeze whistled over her back.

      Suddenly, a familiar voice drifted down to her.  It was Buffy!  Willow finally forced herself to look up, fighting against the wind in her face.  They were closing in on the train, and Buffy and the red-haired boy that Harry had arrived with were both still standing at the back of the last car, cheering them on like race fans urging a tired underdog down the home stretch.  For some reason, that took a lot of the fear out of the whole experience, though she did not think she was about to try flying again anytime soon.

      "Hang on!!" Harry called back to her, and ducked her head down again.  There was a lurch as Harry turned, racing out ahead of the last car, then turning back in to reach the car at an angle and flying on board from the side, exactly as he would have done as if boarding the train from the platform.  Willow suddenly realized that his feet were on the ground, and put hers down with a welcome sigh of relief.  Buffy helped her dismount.

      "That was awesome!" Buffy congratulated Harry.  "I wish I'd have been late!"

      "Ugh, no you don't," Willow sighed, her breathing and her balance beginning to return to normal.  She turned back to Harry.  "But thank you, anyway, I really appreciate it.  I'd never have been able to make the train like that."

      "No problem," he said with a grin.  "I love flying, anyway."

      "You're very good at it.  I mean, I've never seen anyone else fly on a broom, but I'm sure you're good at it."

      "Hey, don't give him any bigger a head than he already has.  He's already thinking he can outfly Viktor Krum."

      "He isn't a god, Ron," Harry retorted pointedly.

      The red-haired boy rolled his eyes and decided to change the subject.  "Anyway, now that we're all here, I'm Ron.  Ron Weasley.  That was me mum you passed back on the platform."

      "And I'm Harry.  Harry Potter."

      "Nice to meet you," Buffy replied.  "And thanks for helping out my friend, too.  And I'm Buffy.  Buffy Summers.

      "Willow Rosenberg," Willow said simply with a shy wave.

      "All right, well, shall we go sit down?"

      "Yes, let's," Willow answered, eager to get inside.

      "Ginny's saving us a car," Ron added.  Then, looking around at the four of them, added "it's going to be a bit cramped with six of us."

      "We'll manage," Harry answered.  "Come on."

      He led them inside to a compartment just inside the last car.  Two other girls were already inside.  "That one with the red hair is my sister Ginny," Ron said.  "Going to be a fifth-year Gryffindor, and the other one is my best friend Hermione Granger, sixth year Gryffindor, same as us."  He then introduced Buffy and Willow to the others.

      "Hey, cool, we're going to be sixth-years, too," Buffy noted.

      "Really?  What Houses are you in?" asked Hermione, a rather lanky but attractive-faced girl sitting at the window.

      "Uh … we don't have Houses yet," Buffy explained.  "We're new, from America.  Uh … what are Houses?"

      "Your House is sort of like your fraternity, sort of like your family," Hermione explained, in a very academic voice.  "There are four of them: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.  People get selected for a House when they first arrive at Hogwarts based on their personal qualities.  The short version is that Gryffindors are warriors; Ravenclaws, scientists; Hufflepuffs, industrialists; Slytherins, politicians.  It's a bit more complicated than that, though; Slytherins are noted for ambition, Gryffindors for honor, and so on.  There are competitions between the Houses all throughout the year."

      "Quidditch?" Buffy asked.

      "Of course Quidditch," Hermione answered, "but not just Quidditch."

      "Not that Quidditch has been much of a competition," Ron said smugly.

      Hermione rolled her eyes.  "Ron just became Keeper for the Gryffindor team last year, and thinks he's a human brick wall now.  Which, of course, is perfectly true, just not the way he's thinking."

      "Hey, Hermione!"

      "Anyway, there are competitions in class, at Quidditch, and at other things—basically anything you do to make your House look good can win you points, and anything you do to make your House look bad can lose you points.  The House with the most points at the end of the year gets the House Cup, a really big deal."

      "So Ravenclaws are the … well, book-learning types?" Willow offered.

      "Normally," Harry entered the conversation for the first time.  "But Hermione here is smarter than any Ravenclaw."  Hermione blushed.  "It's the way she studies … much more like a fighter than a scientist … that makes her a true Gryffindor," Harry added.

      "Still, sounds like Ravenclaw's where I'm going to end up," Willow added.

      "Not a bad House."  Harry certainly didn't seem to think that was a bad thing.

      "He's just saying that because Cho is in it," Ron laughed, earning him a friendly punch on the shoulder.

      "Somehow I doubt we're going to get back together," Harry sighed.  "We were never that serious, and we haven't talked in a long time."

      Buffy grinned.  It was good to see that people weren't so different in the magical world as the world she had grown up in.  Of course, she hadn't quite grown up in the normal world, either.

      "Well, I have a feeling I'm going to end up in Gryffindor," Buffy sighed.  "I think fighting is pretty much my job description."

      "Really?" Ginny asked.  "You don't look … well, I mean … well, looks aren't everything anyway."

      "You didn't see her coming onto the platform," Ron added.  "Carrying five ruddy big suitcases, she was."

      "Oh well.  As long as you're not Slytherin," Ginny finished.

      "Is there something wrong with Slytherin?" Buffy asked.

      "Most of them," Harry answered.  "Or at least a lot of them.  Just about every wizard that's ever gone bad has been a Slytherin."

      Willow had a sudden dread in her belly that she might not end up in Ravenclaw after all.

      "I take it this Voldemort character we keep hearing about was one," she asked.

      Ron and Ginny suddenly reacted as though someone had dropped a live snake in front of them, tensing up and scooting away from them, which annoyed Hermione in particular, as Ron scooted right into her.  Hermione herself seemed a little uneasy at the mention of the name.  Only Harry was unfazed.

      "He was," Harry confirmed.  "His original name was Tom Riddle, a long time ago."

      Willow sighed.  Tom Riddle.  A completely normal human name, not a demon, not an evil spirit.  Not at all unlike Willow Rosenberg.

      "And I take it people have a rather odd superstition about mentioning his name," Buffy surmised.

      "People do," Harry said with a wicked grin.  "I've been trying to get Ron to use Voldemort's real name for years now, but every time I say 'Voldemort,' Ron acts like Voldemort himself entered the room.  Voldemort gets so much power out of his reputation, just because people teach themselves to fear the name 'Voldemort.'"

      By the end of this, Ron and Ginny were pressed against the glass and were actually whimpering.  Hermione was taking it a little more in stride but was also distracted by the weight of a rather large Weasley on her.  "Ron, if you don't get off me right now, you're going to end up flying to Hogwarts _without_ a broom."

      Harry gave Willow a conspiratorial wink.  "Told you she was a Gryffindor."

      "Well, isn't this a merry gathering?" a new voice asked from the doorway.

      Buffy turned around.  "Draco!" she said.  She hadn't expected to see him here.

      For some reason, none of the others seemed as pleased to see him.  "Malfoy," Harry said curtly.

      Draco hadn't recognized Buffy until she turned around.  As soon as he recognized her, his posture seemed to change a little.  Some of the stiffness left his face.

      "Well, quite a little party you've got going here.  Don't let me spoil it," he said brusquely, shutting the door again and walking off down the hall.

      Harry looked confused.  "You know, that may be the shortest exchange of words Malfoy and I have ever had?"

      "Normally he's just warming up at that point," Ron agreed.

      "Maybe he's lost a little of his confidence without Crabbe and Goyle to back him up," Hermione suggested.

      "Never stopped him before," Harry disagreed.  "And he's got everything Lucius couldn't take with him now.  I'd think his head would be twice as big as before."

      "I take it the two of you aren't the best of friends?" Buffy asked.

      "Malfoy?" Ron said with a laugh.  "That great git's been the bane of our existence since our first day at Hogwarts five years ago."

      Buffy squirmed.  She hadn't seen anything of the sort in the boy back at Quality Qudditch Supplies, but then again, he had also clearly acted differently than he had been going to when he had recognized her in the car.

      "I'll be right back," she said, excusing herself.

      She turned right, towards the rear of the train.  There were only two compartments further back than theirs, but Draco was sitting alone in the rearmost one, reading a book of some kind.  She slid the door open quietly and stepped inside.

      "Hey," she said softly, taking a seat across from him.

      He looked up.  "Get too crowded in Potter's clubhouse?" he asked.

      Buffy shrugged.  "You looked like you could use some company."

      Draco's eyes widened.  He hadn't expected that.  He shrugged.  "Sure they didn't kick you out?  I'd hate to think they forced you to go sit with Draco Malfoy."

      "No one forced me to do anything," Buffy replied testily.  "I just wanted to see how you were.  And say that that was a rather different you than I saw back in Diagon Alley."

      Draco grinned wickedly.  "Saint Potter always brings out the best in me."

      "Yeah, I kind of got the impression that you weren't exactly chummy," Buffy answered.  "But I don't think that was the real you.  I don't think you're as mean as … well, as those four think you are.  At the very least, I came over here to apologize for them."

      Draco laughed.  "Apologize?  I think Potter would box your ears if he heard you say that."

      "He might find that harder to do than he thinks," Buffy replied with a secretive smile.  "But before, you were saying … why wouldn't people want to sit with you?  I've been here for three minutes now, I haven't been turned into a toad."

      Draco looked at her quizzically.  "You seriously don't know?"

      "American, remember?  News gets there kind of late."

      Draco shrugged.  "Dad was a Death Eater.  Potter exposed him, he had to run.  A lot of Slytherins did, about a third of us are gone, including the two kids I used to hang out with a lot."

      Buffy shrugged.  She had no idea what a Death Eater was, but it sounded rather unpleasant.  "But you're not a … a whatever it was, a Death Eater?"

      Draco laughed mirthlessly.  "No, but that doesn't stop everyone from treating me like one.  Not many of their kids came back."

      Buffy understood that Draco was saying that his father had been quite a … well, a bad guy … but there was something about him that told her that he hadn't made any choices yet about where he was going with his own life.  "So … why did you?  Come back, I mean."

      Draco shrugged uncomfortably.  "Not sure.  A lot of reasons.  Partly because I'm not ready to give up, and I'll be damned if I let Potter think I ran away.  Partly just for the Quidditch, though the team's going to be in trouble this year.  Partly just because I have too much to lose," he said, holdng up the book he had been reading.  _Management of Magical Estates_, by Midas McGold, the title read.  "Partly because I'm a prefect, so I get to feel a little important here—though it doesn't have the same feeling, since Dumbledore made Potter one right after the end of fifth year, just a few weeks ago.  Broke the tradition of two from each year of each House.  That git gets more special treatment … well, never mind.  And … well, call me reckless, but partly just because Hogwarts always seems to be where all the action is."

      Buffy became pensive for a moment, thinking Sunnydale had always been the place where 'all the action' was.  "It's not … Hogwarts, I mean … it's not … on a Hellmouth, by any chance?"

      Draco actually laughed, and Buffy found herself cheered, even though she had no good reason to be; Draco really did have a bright smile, when he chose to bring it out.  She made a mental note to herself to get her to bring it out more often.

      "Is that what they call it over there?" he laughed.  "Typically American.  Well, it's certainly on a Node, a supernatural confluence of mystical energies, but you can't really call it a Hellmouth … a Dark Node … unless something really bad taints it.  Not likely while Dumbledore and all the professors are there."

      "Well, that's good, at least," she breathed.  "And I think it's good that you came back.  Not giving up is the first step towards winning.  Whatever it is that you're trying to win."  She flashed him a smile of her own.  "And you have a great smile," she said, getting up.  "You really ought to show it more often."

      She let herself out of the cabin, enjoying the expression of Draco's face, just as the train whistle announced their approach to their destination.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **COMING SOON:** Chapter 5, "The Sorting Ceremony."  Buffy and Willow get their first look at the legendary school of witchcraft and wizardry that will be their home away from home this summer, and must go through the Sorting ceremony in the enchanted Great Hall with the first-years.

**      SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_      The Sorting went on.  There were more than fifty new students for the summer term, which Buffy heard several of them say was a record.  Eventually, however, the R's came up.  Jeremy Robbins was sorted into Hufflepuff, and then …_

_      "Willow Rosenberg!"_

_      "'Luck, Will." Buffy nudged her friend forward._****


	5. The Sorting Ceremony

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      **THANKS AGAIN** to everyone who's reviewed!  You guys make my day!  And thanks for your patience; hopefully the action will start picking up after this chapter.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **CHAPTER 5:**

**      THE SORTING CEREMONY**

      "Oh my … does 'wow' cut it?" Willow asked.

      "I wasn't thinking of anything better," Buffy admitted.

      Harry, who was sitting next to them in the boats crossing the Hogwarts Lake, grinned at them.  "I don't think I could think of anything better the first time I saw it, either."

      A magnificent castle had suddenly come into view on the far shore as though a dense fog had lifted around it.  No, it was more than that, Willow decided.  Magnificent didn't even come close.  Buckingham Palace was magnificent.  Neuschwanstein was magnificent.  This was celestial.  The towers rose as high above the lakeshore as many modern skyscrapers, and so many lights blazed within that Willow could half-close her eyes and see the castle as one large shape of fire.  The castle itself covered an area of at least a few dozen city blocks, and the surrounding grounds, which she could barely make out to either side of the approaching edifice, had to be almost the size of Sunnydale.  Even Hagrid, who was steering the lead boat in front of them, looked small and insignificant by comparison.

      _So that's my prison_, Willow thought morosely.  In the late evening light, with the clouds whirling above it and the countless torches looking out from within it, it actually did have a bit of the look of a prison.  Of course, it was a castle.

      The boats drew up to the wharf on the far side and the summer students disembarked.  It was quite a crowd, particularly for summer, but Voldemort's return, finally admitted by the Ministry of Magic, had made many students eager to learn again, and had made many parents all too happy to keep their children within the safety of Hogwarts.

      Buffy hopped off the boat first and gave Willow a hand up to the docks.  Hagrid was already at the head of the pier.  Harry, Ron, and the other older students stayed behind, and took a different stone staircase up to the castle.

      "We'll see you in the Great Hall for Sorting!" Harry said as they departed.  Willow nodded.  Draco passed by a moment later, giving Buffy an unreadable expression, following up the same staircase that Harry and his friends had taken, keeping them at a safe distance.

      "Firs' Years this way!" Hagrid was calling.  "Oh yes, and Miss Summers and Miss Rosenberg, you too, 'long with the Firs' Years!"

      "Where are they taking us?  Day care?" Buffy whispered in Willow's ear as they followed the crowd of ten- and eleven-year-olds up a wider staircase toward a lower entrance to the castle.  She noticed that several of the others were taking personal items out of their bags for comfort, though, often stuffed animals or keepsakes.  She guessed that a lot of the younger kids were even more unnerved by the sudden sight of the castle than she was.  On an impulse, she turned and brought her broom with her.  One or two other kids, taller boys who had entered their growth spurts early, were carrying theirs.

      Willow grinned.  "Part of the punishment, I guess,"

      "Ugh, I so did not sign up for this," Buffy said, rolling her eyes at the sky.  "Pain and torture, yes, but preschoolers?  Gyaah."

      "Aw, you'll be such a mom someday," Willow answered.  Buffy shot her a horrified look.

      The crowd in front of them had stopped.  They had reached the top of a wide stone staircase within the castle; in front of them was a wide hall, with stairs leading up out of it to either side and a pair of truly massive wooden doors in front of them.  At the top of the stairs, next to Hagrid, stood a stern, imposing woman wearing a pointed hat and a thick floor-length dress.

      "Good evening, first years!" the woman called.  "And welcome to Hogwarts!  My name is Professor McGonnagall, Head of Gryffindor House.  My goodness, but there are a lot of you this summer!  Anyway, through this door behind me is the Great Hall, where you will be sorted into your Houses before dinner.  While you are here, your House will be like your family … you will attend classes together, live together, eat together, and everything you do will reflect on your House, for good or ill.  You need not worry about your belongings, they will all be taken to your dormitories by the time you get there.  All right then, I'm sure you're all hungry, and it looks like this summer's Sorting might take somewhat longer than usual, so I won't keep you any longer.  Shall we?"  With that, the woman turned and led the procession through the enormous doors behind her, which opened on their own just as she approached it.

      Buffy and Willow's jaws dropped as they entered the Great Hall for the first time.  The ceiling had been enchanted to look like the evening sky above, only whoever had done it had decided to shrink the moon to a slim silver crescent and add a dazzling meteor shower streaking across the artificial sky.  Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of candles floated in the air a few yards above the four long tables that ran the length of the hall, yet they seemed to give off no smoke and five times as much light as normal candles.

      Professor McGonnagall led them all the way down the room towards the head of the hall, where a large table was set up on a raised podium, perpendicular to the others, at which the teachers were sitting.  Most of the length of each of the long tables were empty; what students were here for the summer sat up closer to the teachers' table at the far end of the hall.  A small chair sat at the lip of the dais.  Something was lying on the chair.  As they got closer, Buffy could see it was a hat.  As they drew near the head of the House tables, the hat perked its point up and began to sing.

      _"Dark works, dark lords, dark times indeed,_

_      For He's no longer dead._

_      You come to us for skills you need_

_      To face what lies ahead._

_      But there are things that never change—_

_      My Sorting, at the least—_

_      So step on up, and I'll arrange_

_      Your Houses ere we feast!_

The song continued, and Buffy looked at Willow, who was already looking back at her.  "Psst … Will … you are hearing a hat singing, aren't you?"

      "Uh … yeah …"

      "Good," Buffy breathed a sigh of relief.

      "I was worried, too, for a moment."

      "Me, too … eek!" Buffy said, cutting off when she noticed one of the professors, a dark-haired man with a penetrating gaze in a thick black coat, giving them a disapproving stare.

      "Did you get in trouble already?" Willow asked.

      "I hope not," Buffy answered, nodding as inconspicuously as she could towards the man with his eyes on her.

      Willow followed Buffy's gaze, and shuddered.  "Creepy," she whispered.

      "Much," Buffy agreed.

      Scattered applause brought their attention back to the hat, which had just finished its song.

      "Torrence Appleby," McGonnagall called, standing next to the chair and reading from a scroll.

      A slim, innocent-looking brunette stood forward from the crowd and nervously approached the chair.  McGonnagall gave her a reassuring smile and motioned for her to have a seat.  Torrence did as McGonnagall instructed, and put on a rather comical-looking brave face as the older woman set the hat on her head.

      "Hmm, shy are we?" the hat said.  "But there's something under there … yes, definitely, such a spark burning in there, if we can bring it to life … and I know just the thing for that … GRYFFINDOR!!"

      McGonnagall removed the hat from Torrence's head and the girl went to sit at the table against the far right wall, greeted by applause from her new housemates.

      "Doesn't look so bad," Willow ventured.

      "I think I can handle it," Buffy agreed.

      "Samantha Bones!" McGonnagall called.

      "Hmm, yes, yes," the hat mused as it sat on Samantha's head.  "Very much like your sister … indeed, so much so, I think you'll go in HUFFLEPUFF!"

      Samantha hopped off the stage and went to sit with her new cheering House-mates at the table to Buffy's immediate left.

      "Vincent Byron!" McGonnagall called.  A solemn-looking boy quietly stepped out of the crowd and set himself on the chair.

      "Interesting," the hat said.  "Very interesting.  SLYTHERIN!"

      The boy got up as quietly as he had sat down, and moved over to the table by the far left wall.  Buffy noted that the applause for the new Slytherin was much less enthusiastic, particularly from the three other tables, many of whom had clapped politely for the previous two.  That annoyed her, for some reason.  Even if a lot of the Slytherins eventually went bad, it was no reason to judge them all the moment they were sorted.  _The kid's only ten years old!_ she muttered silently.  On an impulse, she clapped for Vincent, just to make a point.

      "Getting into this, are we?" Willow asked.

      "Just kinda feeling sorry for the kid.  As if he knew where he'd be going, or asked for that stereotype."

      Willow nodded morosely.

      "Steven Campbell!" McGonnagall had continued as if nothing worth mentioning had happened.

      The Sorting went on.  There were more than fifty new students for the summer term, which Buffy heard several of them say was a record.  Eventually, however, the R's came up.  Jeremy Robbins was sorted into Hufflepuff, and then …

      "Willow Rosenberg!"

      "'Luck, Will." Buffy nudged her friend forward.

      Willow approached the talking hat with no small measure of trepidation.  The hat seemed to have some ability to look into people's characters, and also didn't seem to have any compunction against talking about it in front of people.  She wasn't sure she wanted that hat on her head.  On the other had, she was sure wasn't going to be getting out of this, so she screwed up her determination and sat down on the seat.  On an impulse, she looked over at Harry just as McGonnagall set the hat down on her head, and he gave her a reassuring smile in return.  Willow's breathing steadied, and she waited to hear what the hat thought of her.

      "Well, I never!" the hat exclaimed.  "What a mind!  Bloody brilliant, this one … are you sure you're an American?"

      "Hey!" she forgot her fear for a moment.  _I just got mocked by a Stetson._

      "Oh, dear," the hat responded stuffily.  For some reason, it sounded just like Wesley there, and Willow actually grinned, despite the fact that it had read her thoughts.  "Well now, yes, where was I? … quite the inquiring mind this one has, but difficult, difficult … let's have a closer look … yes, ambition, and desire, passion even, a hunger for achievement … and something more … yes … yes, on second thought, you definitely belong in SLYTHERIN!!"

      Willow swallowed uneasily.  She had been afraid of that.  She had been keeping her eye on Harry the whole time and saw a surprised, even disappointed look enter his eyes before she looked away from him.  He even flinched, as though the hat's pronouncement had somehow stung him in the eye.  She moved over to her new table to join her new House to scattered applause, casting a glance back at Buffy.  Buffy was cheering for her as though she had just won an Olympic medal, at least.  That would never change.

      Willow did not have to wait long for what she was dreading.  Danny Sullivan was quickly sorted into Ravenclaw, and then McGonnagall called, "Buffy Summers!"

      Buffy was not about to let anything about this new world faze her, and strode confidently to the chair and parked herself there, her broom across her lap; in fact, she had begun moving before McGonnagall had even called her.

      "Well, well, well!  Quite a fighter we've got here … courage, yes, and honor, but there's something deeper there as well …" the hat's voice dropped so that only Buffy could hear.  "… something darker …"

      Buffy suddenly caught sight of Willow's eyes, and realized with a shock that she had been forgetting the whole reason she was here, to both protect and keep an eye on her friend.  _Come on, let me be with her … _she thought, trying to think of what she could do to convince the hat to put her next to her friend.  She immediately drew a blank, though.  She had no experience talking to hats.

      "So, you wish to be with your friend, do you?" the hat murmured, still softly.

      _You can hear my thoughts?_

      "I can feel your desires," the hat answered.  "The specific thoughts aren't much use to me, if that's what you're wondering," the hat answered.  For not being able to hear her thoughts, it seemed to have a pretty good idea.

      "Please, I'll do whatever it takes," Buffy whispered.

      "Whatever it takes, eh?"  The hat was speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear again, though not shouting.  "Will you then?  Then you really didn't need to ask … you've definitely got power, girl, and with that kind of determination, you'll be right at home in SLYTHERIN!!"

      Buffy received the same lukewarm reception that everyone else who had been called for Slytherin that day did, but she didn't care.  Willow's eyes had lit up when Buffy had been called, and immediately moved down the table towards the rear of the hall, where there were more empty seats, so they could sit together.  Buffy went over to her and wordlessly clasped her hand.  She cast her eye down the table, memorizing the faces of her new House-mates, and her eyes stopped on one familiar one that she already recognized.  Draco had said he was a Slytherin, but it had slipped her mind.  She smiled at him, and he gave a half-smile in return.  Apparently he didn't want to look too friendly in front of the other Slytherins, who, Buffy conceded, were a rather somber-looking lot.

      There were only five more people left to be Sorted, and when that was done, Dumbledore stood up from his place at the middle of the teachers' table, and tapped his glass for silence.

"Thank you, thank you," he announced.  "Only four announcements before we eat, which I'm sure you're all quite ready for after waiting so patiently—quite a number of new faces this summer!  First, I need to announce that the highest three levels of the Keep, as well as all the dungeons below the first, are reserved for preparations for the war, and are off-limits to students without permission, exactly as the restricted section of the library.  Second, I need to introduce our Defense Against the Dark Arts team this year."

      Three other individuals stood up around the table, including the man in the black coat that Buffy and Willow had both agreed earlier was rather creepy.  "We have greatly increased our Defense Against the Dark Arts staff this year, for understandable reasons.  Some of these faces will be familiar to our older students here.  I begin with Professor Remus Lupin, who will be teaching our younger students, as well as defense against dangerous and magical creatures at all levels."  A rather ratty-looking man in a threadbare coat waved to the crowd, but if he was conscious of his appearance in any way, he didn't seem to know it; he had a relaxed posture and an easy smile.  Buffy and Willow both liked him immediately.

      "Older students will be under the care of Professors Severus Snape and Alastor Moody," Dumbledore continued, indicating two people to his right.  Snape was the greasy-haired man in the black coat.  Willow's eyes widened as she looked at the man Dumbledore had addressed as Moody.

      "Buffy … look at his eye …"

      "Kind of hard not to," Buffy agreed.

      "They don't call him Mad-Eye Moody for nothing," a voice said from behind them.  Buffy turned around just as Draco sat down next to her.  She gave him a quick smile and was about to say something to him, but Dumbledore was continuing and she didn't want to miss what he was saying.

      "And, as you all know, once a month, Remus Lupin will be unavailable to teach lessons.  So once a month, I will be teaching your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes myself."

      For some reason, that set up a thunderous round of applause from the other three tables; the Slytherins were a little less welcoming of the news, but Buffy and Willow clapped anyway.  Willow in particular, having felt a hint of what the man was capable of back in Sunnydale, and at Gringott's.

      "Thank you, thank you," Dumbledore said patiently, though he did not appear to be basking in the applause, merely trying to quiet the crowd down.  "Now, for my last two announcements.  I am always compelled to remind our students that the Dark Forest is _off limits_.  For some reason, I seem to remember making this announcement quite frequently, but for some reason, I also seem to remember needing to."

      Willow looked around, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the far table making sheepish faces at each other.

      "And for my last announcement, the weather tomorrow will be partly cloudy with a high of seventeen."

      "That's about sixty-five," Willow whispered in Buffy's ear.

      Buffy actually laughed.  "I should have known he'd throw in an announcement like that."

      "He likes to keep in practice," Draco affirmed.

      "Keep in practice?" Buffy asked.

      "Being unpredictable," Draco clarified.

      "Oh yes, how silly of me," Dumbledore said a moment later.  He raised both hands.  "Let the feast … begin," he said pleasantly.

      A barrage of delicious aromas suddenly assaulted Buffy's nostrils, and she turned to see a smorgasbord of delicious food suddenly laid out on the table in front of her.

      Willow's eyes widened.  "Goddess …" she whispered.

      "I like this place already," Buffy said with a grin as she reached for the nearest leg of a mouthwatering roast turkey.

      Draco reached for the same piece at the same time.  Their hands met on the leg, Buffy's actually wrapped around the drumstick and Draco's on top of hers.

      Buffy turned to look in his eyes.  "Got there first," she said with a grin.

      Draco was clearly about to retort, but something somehow stopped him at the last moment.  He turned the platter around and pulled off the other leg.

      Buffy looked past Draco for a moment at the other Slytherins.  They were all watching him with undisguised surprise.  Buffy wondered what they were staring at, but shrugged it off a moment later, her attention diverted by an inviting bowl of egg salad.

      "Thinking of flying back to the dorms?" Draco teased, noting that she had carried her broom with her to dinner.

      Buffy shrugged.  "I don't know.  For some reason I just feel better with it.  Plus, I didn't bring a teddy bear."

      A dry grin split Draco's face.  "I know the feeling.  Of feeling better with a broom, not a … a 'teddy bear.'"

      The rest of dinner passed fairly uneventfully, and eventually Dumbledore rose to his feet again and announced that it was time for the prefects to take the newcomers to their dormitories.  Draco immediately became all business, rising to his feet and motioning for everyone else at their table to do likewise.  Buffy noticed Willow looking at something across the room, and followed her eyes to where the boy, Harry, that they had met on the train was getting to his feet to lead the Gryffindors from the hall as well.

      "Checking out a prefect?" Buffy whispered slyly.

      "Aren't you?" Willow said with a nod backwards over her shoulder towards Draco.

      Buffy flushed.  Willow looked like her sixteen-year-old self again, but Buffy reminded herself that they were both a lot more experienced than they looked.  Fortunately, Draco didn't seem to notice amid the shuffling of robes and chairs.

      Grinning sheepishly at each other, Willow and Buffy followed Draco from the Great Hall.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **COMING SOON: **Chapter 6, "On the Stairs."  Buffy and Willow can't even get to their dorm room without excitement following them around like a second shadow.

      **SNEAK PREVIEW:**

      _Buffy was not breathing any easier yet, however, and her mind was racing.  There was a look of intense concentration on Willow's face._

_      "Buffy … I … can't … hold … it …" Willow grated, trying to hold on as long as possible.****_


	6. On the Stairs

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      **SPECIAL THANKS TO …**

_Ranae _and_ tigerlily25,_ for their awesome reviews; and

_DragonKatGal,_ for being an awesome beta-reader, for updating _What You Did_ at long last, and for being the true fanfiction devotee and writing when she should have been studying for midterms!

      **SPECIAL NOTE TO …**

_Lisette:_ yeah, I think I've noticed the same thing you did, that you and DKG are getting lumped together a little bit.  Of course, considering the last few chapters of AWF and WYD, it might not be accurate to say that DKG is the "light and fluffy" girl you once knew … maybe you're rubbing off on her … or maybe I am … ;-)

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

      **CHAPTER 6:**

**      ON THE STAIRS**

      Buffy and Willow, at the front of the line because they had sat so far back in the hall, stopped short when they reached the inside of the high, cavernous stairwell just above the Entrance Hall that led up to the dormitories.  It was so deep that the bottom was invisible, and the skylight at the top twinkled faintly far above their heads.  Staircases led along the sides, and sometimes straight out over the abyss.  Even more disconcerting, however, was that fact that the staircases were moving.

      Draco turned with a knowing grin.  "All right, hatchlings!" he called out.  "Keep an eye on the staircases; as you can see, they tend to move around.  At least they have rails, though.  Slytherin Tower's this way!" he called, leading the procession of Slytherins to the right.  The Hufflepuffs turned to the right with them, as well, but went lower into the hall while the Slytherins began to climb upward.  The Ravenclaws turned to the left and down; the Gryffindors turned to the left and began to climb upward along the far wall.

      "What idiot designed this?" one of the new Slytherins asked after they had climbed the first moving staircase.  The staircase had begun moving just as Draco neared the top, depositing them on a different landing than they had been making for.

      "Four idiots, actually, and they were still a heck of a lot brighter than you," Draco called out over his shoulder.  "And the moving staircases were Salazar Slytherin himself's idea.  They're designed to keep you on your toes.  Hope none of you sleepwalk."

      Buffy smiled, though Willow looked as though she were feeling a little queasy.

      They waited a minute or two on the third floor landing for another staircase to move over to let them continue.  The Gryffindors were already passing above far above them when a scream reached them from above.

      Everyone's eyes turned skyward.  The staircase from the fourth to the fifth floor above them was moving, and everyone could make out the struggling form of a girl hanging from the end of it.  She had to have been just stepping across the gap when the stair began moving, and had just caught herself on the end of it..  There were a handful of first years on the stair behind her, but they were screaming and holding on for dear life; no one was making any move to help the girl.  All of the older students were at the head of the line, and had been left behind on the landing that the head of the staircase was shifting away from.  The stairs moved faster then they seemed, just because they were so large.  The stair was already drawing near the next landing; the girl was going to get crushed between the stair and the new landing in a matter of seconds.  Buffy grated her teeth, and even more loudly when she heard a few of the Slytherins behind her give gruff chuckles—she was starting to see why a lot of them weren't very popular.  However, the staircase the girl was moving towards was directly above them.  It was a dim hope, but if she fell within arm's reach …

      Suddenly, with a scream, just before the staircase shifted into place at the fifth floor landing two stories above them, the girl fell.  The girl's face came into view, and Buffy recognized Torrence Appleby from the recent Sorting.  But she was going to be too far out …

      _"Wingardium Leviosa!" _a voice next to her shouted.  Buffy turned, because the voice, though barely recognizable, was clearly Willow's.  The redheaded girl had her wand out and was pointing at the other girl, who was still a floor above them and several yards out from the platform.  However, she had suddenly stopped falling, suspended in midair.

      Buffy was not breathing any easier yet, however, and her mind was racing.  There was a look of intense concentration on Willow's face.

      "Buffy … I … can't … hold … it …" Willow grated, trying to hold on as long as possible.  It was only a beginner's spell that she had glanced once at the previous night while falling asleep, however, and she was trying to use it on a heavy, living target at long range.

      Buffy's mind raced, then stopped, when she remembered what she was holding.  "Hold on!" she said, swinging her leg over her broom just as she had seen Harry do from a distance at the train station.

      The surprise of realizing what Buffy was about to do disrupted Willow's concentration, however, and Torrence began to slip downward again.  Willow tried to regain her concentration, and slowed the fall for a few seconds, but once a spell started to slip, it was hard to put back together.

      "Summers, what in Salazar's name are you doing?" she heard Draco's alarmed voice from nearby.

      "Good question," she answered as she kicked off.

      Fortunately, having the falling target of Torrence Appleby to concentrate on prevented her from thinking about whatever else would normally have been going on in her head during her first time flying, and the Nimbus 2001 between her legs seemed to react instinctively to her touch.  It was almost as if, as Draco had half-kidded in Quality Quidditch Supplies, it liked her.

      Willow's spell snapped just as Buffy got her bearings set.  It had only been seconds.  With a scream, Torrence began to free-fall again.  Buffy dove, leaning forward and forcing the tip of the broom downward until she was nearly vertical.  The wind screamed like a tortured banshee in her ears as she picked up speed, and the floors that she had recently climbed so tediously blurred by in an eyeblink.  Her robes and her hair whipped out behind her, skyward, as though gravity were paying attention to nothing but the falling girl in front of her.  Had she had time to cast her eyes back over her shoulder, the entire crowd of Slytherins would have blended into the shadows above, and Draco's torch would have seemed nothing but a distant, nondescript point of light.

      They were several floors below the Entrance Hall when Buffy finally caught up with the falling girl.  She positioned herself directly beneath the girl, braced herself, then spun herself in midair to face skyward again, now flying backwards and allowing the girl to fall softly into her stomach.

      The air rushed out of Buffy's lungs as the girl made contact, and she was forced to bring one hand free of her grip on the broomstick in order to prevent the girl from bouncing away, and also to prevent her from struggling, as she was still flailing hysterically.  The broom had slowed much more than she had intended when she started going backwards, and Torrence had hit her harder than she had wanted.  Fortunately, or somewhat fortunately, anyway, the air seemed to have been knocked from the other girl's lungs as well, so the girl's struggles ceased a moment later as she began gasping for air.

      Then they were stationary.  Buffy breathed deeply.  She was hovering, at least seven stories below the Entrance Hall by the looks of things, with Torrence in her arms, who seemed to have settled down.  Well, Buffy corrected herself a moment later, at least she had stopped flailing.

      A whooshing sound caught Buffy's attention, and she turned to see a staircase swinging straight at her head.  Reflexively, she jerked away, spinning and dodging out of the way.  She was surprised at how effortless it was; the hard part was holding onto Torrence.

      "Hang on," she whispered softly, looking around to see that she was not in the path of any more hostile stairs.  Balancing herself in midair with nothing but her legs on the broomstick, she turned Torrence around so that the younger girl's arms were wrapped around Buffy's neck, and her legs were wrapped tightly around the broomstick.

      "All right, let's get out of here," Buffy muttered.  She wasn't sure how far down the dungeons were, but she didn't want to take the chance that she had already entered them and wasn't supposed to hang around.  She darted skyward, a little faster than might have been necessary, partly to keep the other girl holding on tight and keep the idea of struggling out of her mind, partly because—well, she admitted, flying on a broomstick was absolutely exhilarating.

      Most of the Slytherins gave her shocked expressions as she floated by, but the amazed expressions on Draco and Willow's faces were utterly priceless, and she suddenly felt a surge of predatory pride.

      The Gryffindors were shocked as well, though Buffy guessed grimly that it was more the fact that they had never expected such help from a Slytherin.  Well, she was going to be damned if she was going to let them tell her who she was, she thought as she approached the landing.

      As she approached the landing, however, Harry seemed to recover from his shock, and a smile spread across his face.  He set down his torch in a nearby sconce, and clapped his hands together once.  Then again.  Then a third time, a little faster.  Hermione took it up, then Ron, then the others, then suddenly the entire Gryffindor line was cheering, whistling, and jumping wildly as she glided in.  She felt like she had hit the final home run of the World Series.

      "OK, you can let go now," she said softly as she hovered above the landing.

      Torrence looked up, saw where she was, and hurriedly got off the broom.  "Thanks," she said, giving Buffy the kind of tight, adorable hug that only a ten-year-old can give.

      Harry, Ron, and Hermione were surrounding Buffy then, and Harry was absolutely beaming.

      "Buffy, that was incredible!" Ron said.

      "Thanks," she said, grinning from ear to ear.  She could definitely come to enjoy this.

      "Buffy Summers!" a woman's voice called from below them.  Buffy turned to see a breathless McGonagall hurrying up the stairs from the fourth floor.  For some reason, she didn't look extremely happy, but Buffy couldn't tell if it was just the fact that she had been running.  It didn't look as if Professor McGonagall did that much.

      "I believe Professor Dumbledore told you just this evening that the dungeon was off-limits."

      Buffy's mouth dropped open, and she struggled to find words to say.  She looked around at the other Gryffindors, who were clearly just as stunned as she was.  She bit back a sharp retort, and forced her shoulders to relax after another second.  Eventually, she assumed the most polite tone she could.  She didn't understand, but she didn't want to get in trouble on her first day, especially before she knew if she'd done anything that might get her taken away from Willow.

      "I'm sorry, Professor," she said.  "It took me a moment to get my broom under control."

      "I see," McGonagall answered.  "Well, I am confident that it was an accident.  So only five points will be deducted from Slytherin House."

      Out of her left ear, Buffy heard Hermione give a sharp hiss, and Ron and Harry were clearly stunned as well.  McGonagall turned to look at each of them in turn.

      "And another five points from Slytherin for flying indoors," McGonagall added.  "That is strictly against school rules outside of special areas."

      "Professor!" Hermione snapped.

      "Hermione, if you please," McGonagall cut her off crisply.  Buffy's eyes were downcast.  Suddenly, Hermione gave a soft laugh.  Buffy looked up.  The older woman was smiling now, and some of the stiffness had faded from her carriage.  She had a hand over her chest as if to steady her breathing.

      "Now then," she said.  "Let's see.  Modesty in a Slytherin.  Rare, that.  Courage, too, and taking risks to help another student in danger.  Saving the life of a first-year classmate.  And, of course, the most amazing feat of indoor flying, illegal or not, I've ever seen at this school.  Ever," she added with emphasis, and a pointed look at Harry, for some reason.

      "The Weasleys were better," someone called from the back.

      "Hush!" McGonagall snapped, and the student who had spoken ducked his head.  The professor's smile returned a moment later, however.

      "Miss Summers," the professor continued.  "I never thought I would say this in my entire tenure at Hogwarts.  Fifty points to Slytherin."

      Buffy grinned.  She had no idea what 'points' were, but it didn't sound like a bad thing.  She grinned brightly.  "Thanks," she said.  She cast a glance back down at the Slytherins, who were now on the fourth floor landing below her.  "Um … is it OK if I fly back down there?" she asked.

      "Of course not," McGonagall answered crisply.  "Not while I'm looking."  However, a moment later, she gave her a quick grin and walked over to the wooden door on the landing leading onto the fifth floor.  She turned around.  "I don't know what that hat was thinking.  I think you'd have made a fine Gryffindor."  With that, she slipped out the door and out of sight.

      Buffy turned back to Torrence, who was being comforted by Hermione and Harry.  "Watch your step," she said cheerily as she hopped back on her broom and floated back down to the Slytherins.

      "Buffy!" Willow called as soon as the sunny-haired Slayer landed.  "That was awesome!"  For some reason, however, her voice seemed a little faint, even though she didn't feel that tired.

      Draco was right behind Willow.  He was looking at her with a mix of suspicion and respect.  "Are you sure you needed my help in Diagon Alley?"

      "Um … huh?" Buffy asked.

      "Did you really need my help for picking out brooms?  Because … well, it seems you certainly know how to use it."

      Buffy shrugged.  "That was my first flight."

      Draco's eyes bulged.  "I have trouble believing that."

      "She's telling the truth," Willow came to her friend's defense.  "Unless she's been hiding something from me for the last five years."

      "Unbelievable," Draco said.

      Buffy grinned, but excused herself a moment later, drawing Willow aside.  "What's wrong?" she asked.  "Did that spell burn you out?"

      "What?  Oh, no, I'm fine.  It's just that … well, that was really incredible, Buffy.  I'm really happy for you."

      "You're not sounding fine," Buffy said pointedly.  "What's wrong?"

      "Nothing," Willow demurred.  "I just wish … well, I just wish I could have done what you did.  I wish I would have had the guts to even try."

      Buffy suddenly understood.  "I'm not stealing your prefect," she said pointedly, cutting out the small talk.

      A shocked expression and a light blush burst across Willow's face.  "'My prefect?!'  Buffy, I've known him for like half a day!  Who do I look like, Harmony?"

      "Give it time, best friend of mine," Buffy answered expansively.  "By the way, I think he likes you, too.  He was looking at you, too, you know."

      "Think so?" Willow answered with a shy smile.

      "Absolutely," Buffy answered confidently.  "Come on, let's not get left behind," she finished as Draco called after them to hurry up; they had started up the last flight of stairs before entrance to Slytherin Tower.

      A minute later, the group stopped at the end of a hallway that appeared to be a dead end; there was nothing there but a picture of a tall, stern-looking man holding a large python.

      "Password!" the man in the picture said.

      _"Sophus Serpentus_," Draco answered.

      The picture swung outward, revealing a door, and the new Slytherins followed Draco into the Slytherin common room.

      The common room was long and cool, with dark tiles on the floor and deep, plush furniture arranged around it.  A large fire burned at the head of a room in a stone fireplace carved to look like the head of a serpent.  The man Dumbledore had called Professor Snape was waiting for them just in front of the fire, leaning against the side of the mantle.  He stood forward as the crowd of new Slytherins approached; the older Slytherins except for Draco scattered to the chairs and couches.

      "My name is Professor Snape," the man said.  "As most of you know from dinner.  I also happen to be Head of Slytherin House.  It's always good to see new students eager to start early.  It shows the kind of ambition we like to see in Slytherin.

      "Most of you are pure-bloods, so there isn't a whole lot to explain to most of you; you know how things work here.  However, I will need to see young Miss Summers and Miss Rosenberg immediately, as the circumstances of their arrival were somewhat … unusual."

      Buffy shrugged and didn't know what to make of that, but nonetheless followed the professor up a spiral staircase leading out of one corner of the common room.  They went up several flights before Snape stopped and brought them out at a short hall.  They looked out the window and were amazed at how high up they were; they hadn't realized how many stairs they had climbed during the day.  They were in the topmost floor of Slytherin Tower, and the landscape spread out under the moonlight beneath them was visible for tens of miles.

      "Nice view, isn't it?" Draco asked from behind Buffy.  She turned.  She hadn't noticed him following them.

      "It is," Buffy agreed.  "Were you following us?"

      Draco laughed.  "That's my room over there," he said, pointing to the first door to the right coming out of the stairwell.  "The top floor is for prefects and VIP's, so I have no idea what you're doing here," he said, pointing them down the hall to where Snape was holding a door open for them.  He lowered his voice a little.  "But that doesn't mean that I wasn't following you," he said with a smile as he disappeared into his own room.

      Buffy smiled and followed Willow into the room where Snape was waiting for them.  It was a pleasant double room, with more than enough room to move around; it was larger than the room she and Willow had shared at UC-Sunnydale, and the beds were bunked, giving even more floor space.  Their belongings were already waiting.

      "Well, well, well, welcome to both of you," Snape said as he shut the door.  "I must say I am a bit surprised to see you both in Slytherin, but I've lived through worse surprises."

      Buffy and Willow looked at each other, trying to figure out if that was supposed to be comforting or insulting.

      "Most of the teachers here are aware of what you have done, or nearly did, Miss Rosenberg," Snape said shortly.

      "Oh," Willow said, her eyes downcast.

      "But, be that as it may, I nonetheless concur with Dumbledore's judgment that it is best for you to be at Hogwarts, whether friend or not."

      "Thanks," Willow said wryly.

      "Friends close and enemies closer, Mr. Snape?" Buffy said.  She didn't like to see anyone degrading Willow at any time, but particularly not now when it was self-confidence that she needed most.

      "Indeed, Miss Summers.  And you may call me Professor."

      "Yes, Professor," Buffy replied curtly.

      "Anyway, I felt it fair to let you know where you stand on that.  The teachers are aware, and several high-ranking officials at the Ministry, but nobody else is, and the teachers at this school do not betray secrets.  The story has been kept out of our newspapers, with no small amount of effort, I might add."

      "Well … thanks," Willow said.  She wasn't sure exactly what kind of papers they had in the wizarding world, but keeping her name out of them seemed like a good thing regardless.

      "Now, on to one more mundane matter," Snape said briskly, removing two sheets of parchment from his coat.  "Summer session is a more free-form time, but you two are the only two Slytherins still not scheduled for classes for the fall."

      "Oh, I'm not going to like this part," Buffy sighed.  Willow had perked up, however.  Classes were much easier to talk about than ending the world.

      An hour later, Snape had the two girls' autumn classes arranged.  Buffy's had been quick; she wasn't looking for anything special, and indeed was taking a nearly bare-minimum course load; the only thing extraneous she had added was an advanced flying course, which Snape said she might well be kicked out of if she was already too good.  He had heard of her little escapade in the great stairwell.

      Willow's course load was trickier; for one thing, Dumbledore had left specific instructions that she be given Occlumency lessons by Professor Snape to protect her mind.  Buffy wasn't exactly sure what Occlumency was, but mental defenses for Will definitely sounded like a good thing.  However, Willow, true to form even in a school unlike any other, had picked up an overload of courses, including several ambitious advanced ones that Snape seemed rather uncertain as to whether she could be ready for by the summer's end.  Willow had promised to do whatever it took, however, and Snape was not generally in the business of squelching ambition.  At least, not when it came to Slytherins.

      After Snape had excused himself, Buffy and Willow quickly showered and changed into their pajamas.  It was early, but it had been a rough evening.  It was barely eight-thirty when Buffy extinguished the light in their room.

      "Getting up early?" Willow asked softly as she lay on the bottom bunk.

      "I think so," Buffy asked.

      "Going to the library?" Willow asked.  "A lot to learn in one summer."

      "I'll trust you to find all the books we'll need to catch up," Buffy answered with a smile.  "All our classes but one overlap, so I think I'll go practice for that one."

      "Which one is that?" Willow asked.  Then, a moment, later she remembered.  "Oh."

      Buffy smiled, imagining the expression on her friend's face.  "Flying."

            *           *           *           *           *

      **THANKS AGAIN **to everyone who's reviewed!  You guys really make my day!  Please, take some time and let me know what you think of this—plot, characters, style, whatever, I love hearing from you.__

      **COMING SOON: **Chapter 7, "Making Friends."  The day after being sorted into Slytherin, Willow is up early to go to the library, where she meets Gryffindor's über-student and a certain scarheaded aspiring Auror.

**      SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_      "What's an Auror?" Willow asked._

_      "Well, basically a special agent for the Ministry that tracks down and captures dark witches and wizards."_

Like me,_ Willow thought.  _Wonderful.


	7. Making Friends

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND: ** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      **MORE THANKS** to everyone who reviewed, especially all new readers!  Good to have you all aboard!

      _"unknown reviewer,"_ thanks for the kudos on the broom action scenes; I've always been fond of those.  There may even just be a few more in the works … maybe … J

      _tigerlily: _the intent was for it to be something vaguely like "Mind of the Serpent," so you were probably as close as I was, considering the generally nonexistent state of my Greek grammar.

      _sita:_ thanks for the note on Flamel; I've always wondered why no one else has bothered to include him, since he's an interesting character, a friend of Dumbledore's, and almost undescribed, so the imagination has a lot of room to work.

      On to the show!

            *           *           *           *           *

      **CHAPTER 7:**

**      MAKING FRIENDS**

      Buffy was already gone when Willow awoke, even though it was only five-thirty in the morning.  She stretched, got dressed the old-fashioned way, and drifted to the window.  The sun was already above the eastern horizon; Willow had forgotted how early the sun rose in the summer this far north.

      A speck darting around far away at the far end of the grounds caught her attention.  She had a feeling she already knew what it was, but she felt like checking anyway.  She lifted her wand off the nightstand, pointed it at her eyes, and chanted, _"Binoculate."_  Her vision suddenly streamed outward, and the forest at the edge of the school grounds suddenly looked much closer than it had been before.

      It took her a moment to locate Buffy again as her vision adjusted, but once she found her, she found it hard to take her eyes off her flying friend.  It was easy to be impressed by what Buffy was doing, even though the only people she had ever seen fly were Buffy and Harry, the way she streamed through the air, upside down, vertical, backwards, sideways, it didn't matter, she made it all look effortless.  She wasn't wearing her school robes, just a form-fitting athletic outfit; if it were cold in the English early morning air, she didn't seem to feel it.  But what touched Willow more than Buffy's aerial acrobatics was the expression of pure joy obvious on her friend's face whenever that face was turned toward Willow's window for even an instant.  Willow sighed sadly.  She wondered if she would ever be able to wear an expression like that again.

      She watched for almost twenty minutes before she remembered that she had her own business that morning.  She pointed her wand at her eyes again and whispered, _"Finite." _ Her vision snapped back to normal.  She took her bookbag, empty, and headed for the library.

      She had half-expected to be alone in the library at this hour, but she was not completely surprised to see someone else here.  There was one other girl in the library when she arrived, and as she approached, she saw that it was Hermione, Harry's friend from the train.

      "Hey," Willow said as she approached.

      Hermione looked up from an enormous volume she was studying.  "Hey, Willow," she said in a neutral tone.

      Willow had to think for a moment before she remembered why Hermione would probably be using such a guarded, emotionless tone with her.  "Hey, look, Hermione, I know you don't think much of Slytherins, but we can still be friends, can't we?"

      Hermione seemed to weigh it over in her mind, then smiled.  "I don't see why not," she admitted a moment later.

      "Good," Willow said, genuinely relieved.  It was funny; she still remembered all twenty-one years of her life, but she was feeling a lot like her sixteen-year-old self lately, always trying to make friends but too shy to have much success.

      "So what are you looking for here?" Hermione asked a moment later.

      "Ummm … a lot of stuff, actually.  I have a lot of catching up to do."  She handed Hermione a list of her classes for fall, and the required books for the classes preceding them.

      Hermione whistled.  "Wow, you're as bad as I am!" she said, casting a different look at Willow, as though seeing her for the first time.  "Well, if you're up to this, the Sorting Hat won't have been kidding."

      "Thanks," Willow answered with a meek shrug.  "So what are you looking for here?"

      Hermione laughed.  "Harry and I are getting an early start.  McGonagall promised to help him become an Auror, and has been asking me to give him some quick tips while he's here, especially with Potions and Transfiguration."

      "What's an Auror?" Willow asked.

      "Well, basically a special agent for the Ministry that tracks down and captures dark witches and wizards."

      _Like me,_ Willow thought._  Wonderful._

      To cover her discomfort, she asked, just to say something, "What about Defense Against the Dark Arts?  That sounds more … Auror-ish."

      Hermione gave a halfhearted smile.  "That's right, you don't know Harry.  Yes, it's quite an important skill for Aurors.  But … let's just say I don't think he needs my help in that one."

      "Well, thanks for that, at least, Hermione," a voice said from behind Willow.

      "Any time," Hermione replied with a cheeky grin.

      Willow turned around.  Harry was standing there, holding a small stack of books under one arm.  Willow's heart skipped a beat.  _Oh for gosh sakes, get a hold of yourself, Willow!_ she berated herself.  _He's only sixteen.  Really sixteen, not just faking it._

      "'Morning, Willow," he said, tossing his books down wearily on the desk in front of Hermione.

      "Hey, Harry," she answered.

      "By the way, I never got a chance to say congratulations for yesterday."

      "Really?  Uh … what for?"

      Harry cocked his head at her.  "That was an awesome Levitation Charm," he explained.

      "Oh … really?  Well, not really … I mean, I couldn't hold it, or Buffy wouldn't have had to go flying down into the dungeons."

      "You bought her time," Harry answered.  "Torrence owes you as much as she does Buffy."

      "Plus, using a Charm on a moving, living target at that range isn't easy," Hermione added.

      "Well … eh … thanks," Willow answered meekly, hoping that her smile didn't look overly goofy.

      "So what are you doing up so bright and early?" Harry asked, taking a seat next to Hermione, facing Willow.

      "Willow here is taking a very ambitious schedule in the fall," Hermione said, actually sounding rather proud.  "You might learn a thing or two from her."

      "Uh-oh.  If Hermione calls your schedule tough, you probably scheduled too much," Harry laughed.  "Can I see?"

      Willow handed Harry her schedule.  He glanced over it, and his eyes widened.  "Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Tranfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Herbology, Alchemy, History of Magic, and … Occlumency?  You're taking Occlumency?"  He pushed his hair back as though it were getting in his eyes and preventing him from reading straight.

      "Yeah, it supposed to be some kind of mystical mind defense or something," Willow agreed.

      "I know what it is," Harry said.  "I take it, too … in fact, I think I'm the only other student who takes it."

      "Really?" Willow asked.  For some reason, that brought a smile to her lips.  "Are you taking it in the fall?"

      "I think so, probably," Harry sighed.

      "You _are_ taking it," Hermione corrected him sternly.

      "It is a bad class?" Willow asked.

      "Not really a bad class, just, well … a bad teacher.  Your Head of House and I have never really gotten along … to put it mildly."

      "Snape teaches it," Willow reminded herself aloud.  Snape had told her that last night, but it had slipped her mind.  "Yeah, I can see how he could be kind of scary.  I think I have him for something else, too."

      Harry grimaced.  "Three different classes, from the looks of things," he grated.  "Me too.  Occlumency, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.  I'm not exactly looking forward to it, though at least I'll be back at Hogwarts."

      "Back at Hogwarts?  Aren't you already there?" Willow asked pointedly.

      Harry sighed.  "I wish I were back to stay.  I'm only here for another day, then I have to go back home."  For some reason, he didn't sound too happy about that.  Willow suddenly remembered Hermione saying something about giving Harry help 'while he was here.'

      "You're leaving?" she asked, trying to sound just polite, not overly disappointed.

      "I have to," Harry explained.  "I have to spend the summers at home.  Not by choice.  I'll be back in the fall, and I might be able to make one more visit, though I'll probably be going to the Burrow—Ron and Ginny's house—if I'm allowed out again."

      "Well … that's a shame.  Are you leaving, too?" Willow asked Hermione.

      "Nope," Hermione said brightly.  "I'll be here all summer."

      "And when she says that," Harry added cheerfully, "she really does mean right here in the library."  Hermione gave him a playful shove on the shoulder.

      "Seriously, though, you two should get along really well," Harry continued.  "Hermione wasn't kidding—even without the Occlumency, that would be a heck of a schedule."  He brushed the hair out of his eyes again, and Willow caught a glimpse of something underneath his bangs that had looked like just a smudge of some kind earlier.

      "What's that?" she asked.

      "What's what?" Harry asked, puzzled.

      "On your forehead."

      "Oh, this?" he said, parting his hair and holding it to reveal a scar shaped like a short lightning bolt.  For some reason, he flinched again as he did so, as if the scar pained him somehow.  He gave her another questioning look.  "You don't know?"

      "I just arrived in England a few days ago," Willow reminded him.

      "I know, it's just …"

      "… he thought everyone knew," Hermione finished for him.

      "Well, yeah, kind of, I've kind of gotten used to people knowing, unless they're really young."  

      "So what is this that everyone else knows?"

      Harry's face was expressionless.  "I got this when I was just a baby.  Voldemort tried to kill me.  My mother had died protecting me moments earlier, though, which turned out to be just about the strongest counter-curse in history.  His spell rebounded … he ended up almost dead, and I ended up the world's most famous orphan."

      Willow's hands had flown to her mouth.  "Oh, Goddess, Harry, I'm so sorry," she said.  "I didn't mean to bring up memories like that.  Though I guess they're more than memories, if he's back now."

      "It's all right," Harry shrugged.  "I've had enough time to learn to deal with it by now.  Besides, I'm more worried about stopping him from finishing the job right now."

      "He's still after you?" Willow asked in a frightened whisper.  "Just a revenge thing?"

      Harry nodded at first, then shook his head.  "More than that," he said, "but there's certainly some revenge involved, I'm sure."

      Hermione had been looking curiously at Willow during this conversation, and suddenly seemed to come to a conclusion of some kind.

      "You're no exchange student," she said.

      Willow shrugged.  "Nope.  I only heard about Hogwarts and Voldemort and all of this less than two weeks ago.  Why?"

      "Even in America, they would know that Voldemort has still been after Harry.  There's no way you could have gone to any of the schools over there for five years and still not know about all this."

      Willow smiled.  "Nope.  Just starting."

      "Well, I'd say you're off to a good start," Hermione answered.  "So wait, that Levitation Charm was …"

      "The first time I ever used a wand," Willow confirmed.  She didn't feel like going into all the other things she had done with magic; she was here to put all that behind her.

      Harry suddenly looked awestruck, both impressed by that in itself and realizing the other half of the significance of what Hermione was saying.  "And your friend?"

      "Buffy?"

      Harry nodded, and swallowed.  "That was …?"

      "Oh, her first time on a broomstick?  Yeah."

      Hermione nodded, as though trying to take in a difficult concept, and Harry's eyes simply widened, and he shook his head in disbelief.  "You've got to be kidding."

      "Actually, I'm not, but she sure seems to want to make up for lost time," Willow answered, nodding out the window.  Buffy was barely visible in the distance, darting around at the far limits of the Hogwarts grounds, just shy of the Dark Forest.

      Harry squinted faintly.  "Is that her?" he asked.

      Hermione raised her wand.  _"Binoculate,_" she whispered to herself.  Harry followed her lead a moment later.

      "Wow," Harry breathed a moment later, and Willow felt another involuntary pang of jealousy.  "How long has she been out there?"

      "Probably since about quarter after five," Willow admitted, casting a glance at her watch.  It was half past six.

      "More than an hour out there," Harry breathed.

      "Looks like she's about to wrap up," Hermione observed.  Buffy was darting back towards the castle now.  A moment later, she alighted atop Slytherin Tower and disappeared from view.

      "I think you've got some competition, Harry," Hermione said with a sidelong grin at the boy.  A moment later, she whispered, _"Finite."_

      "And not just from your old boyfriend, either," Harry agreed, following Hermione's lead and ending the charm a moment later.  Hermione grinned.

      "Your old boyfriend?"

      "Hermione was dating Viktor Krum, one of the best Quidditch players in the world, for a little while.  Didn't last long, but certainly made a lot of eleven- and twelve-year-olds jealous."

      "Oh come on, I think I even made McGonagall jealous," she said with a wicked smirk.

      "And now you two are …?" Willow trailed off.

      "We're what?  Oh … what?!" Harry's eyes widened.  "Oh, no, we're not," he clarified.  "No, just best friends … besides," Harry added with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "Ron's the one she fancies."

      "Do you want my help or not?" Hermione's face held all kinds of threats.

      "Aww, I'm sowwy," Harry said, giving Hermione a playful hug.

      "Want a stomachful of slugs?" Hermione warned.

      "Eww," Harry said as he withdrew.

      "Anyway, when do you leave?" Willow asked, not wanting to disrupt their studying any longer and worried things would get too awkward if she stayed too long.

      Harry sighed, feeling that his time to delay was up and that he was going to have to open the advanced potions book in front of him before long.  "Day after tomorrow, just after breakfast," he said.

      "All right … say goodbye before you leave?"

      "I will, I promise," he said, smiling at her as she walked out.  "And I'll see you at breakfast!"  Willow flashed a last smile his way as she disappeared towards the circulation desk with a stack of books.

            *           *           *           *           *

      "So what do you think of her?" Hermione asked as Willow left the room.

      "I'm not sure," Harry admitted.  "She seems like a really sweet girl."  He looked over and grinned mischievously.  "I'm actually kind of glad we missed the train."

      Hermione smiled and let that pass; there had been something else in what he had said.  "But you think she may not be such a really sweet girl?"

      "I don't know," Harry admitted.  "She seems more … genuine … than any Slytherin I've ever met."

      "You heard the Hat, you know she was moments from being a Ravenclaw."

      "Yeah, but there's more than that," Harry said, turning to look at Hermione.  "She's going to be taking Occlumency with me.  No other student is expected to take Occlumency.  Heck, no other students are even _allowed_ to take Occlumency."

      Hermione suddenly understood what Harry was saying.  "And the only reason you're allowed … required …"

      "… is because Dumbledore thinks I _need_ to learn it.  You know as well as anyone there's no Occlumency class.  It's going to be private with Snape again."

      "Which means, if she's taking it, then Dumbledore thinks she needs to learn it, too."

      "Exactly," Harry answered.

      "So she may be in some kind of trouble, too."

      "Maybe," Harry said.  For some reason, he kept to himself the other reason that the girl was attracting his attention.  Sometimes, just a few times, when she had looked at him, a dull ache, like a vague memory of what used to happen when Voldemort was thinking about him, shot through the scar on his forehead.  He shrugged himself out of his woolgathering a moment later, however.

      "Come on," he said.  "Let's get started."

            *           *           *           *           *

      **SPECIAL NOTE: **I actually signed up for ff.net's support services, so if I'm on your favorite authors list, you should be receiving automated e-mails when I upload new chapters.  I'm not shilling for new people to put me on favorites, but for those of you who already have me there, do let me know if you got the alert for this, since you are the main reason I signed up for it.

      **COMING SOON: **Chapter 8, "At Breakfast."  Buffy and Draco talk about Quidditch and a few other things; the ghosts provide some excitement at breakfast, and Willow finds that she still has a lot of self-control to learn.

      **SNEAK PREVIEW:**

      _Willow's eyes had gone dark and she pulled out her wand and pointed it … a few of the professors at the head table had stood up, nervous or stern expressions on their faces._

_      "This should be good," the Baron said behind them._


	8. At Breakfast

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      **THANKS AGAIN **to everyone who took the time to write a review; I always love reading them, and they're great motivation to keep plugging away at this (despite those irritating finals and LSAT coming up in a few weeks).

            *           *           *           *           *

      **CHAPTER 8:**

**      AT BREAKFAST**

      Buffy was in a good mood.  There was no other way to describe it.  She was in a good mood.  She only hoped Willow was having half as much fun at the library as she had had over the past two hours.  After more than an hour of flying, a short stretching workout, and a long, hot shower, she was feeling better than she had in a long time.  She had just finished drying off, getting dressed, and taming her hair as best she could when a bell chimed repeatedly in the distance.

      Draco was leaving his room just as Buffy came out her own door.  He cast an approving gaze at her, though Buffy could see a little hint of nervousness as well.  "'morning!" he said.

      "Morning, Draco," Buffy answered.  "What was that bell?"

      "Breakfast!" he said.  "For people who get up late, or take long showers … or long flights."

      Buffy's eyes widened.  "You were watching?"

      Draco looked at her as though trying to figure out if she was kidding or not.  "_'You were watching?'_" he repeated incredulously.

      "Umm … is this a good thing or a bad thing?"

      Draco gave an exasperated shrug.  "Come on down to breakfast and find out," he said, and without waiting for any more discussion, turned and strode down the stairs.  Buffy followed, puzzled.

      There weren't many people in the Slytherin common room when she emerged from the stairwell.  Willow was there, a large book open in front of her and several others stacked nearby.  There were only four others in the room, and they all cast appraising looks in her direction as she came into view.

      Draco turned and whispered in her ear, "Don't worry, they don't say much, but they're impressed.  They just won't admit it unless they think there's something in it for them.  The other Houses will be more … open."

      Buffy shrugged.  "I wasn't trying to attract attention, you know."

      "Oh, I know," Draco said.  "Which is part of exactly why you did.  You'll catch on pretty quickly, I'm sure."

      "Thanks, I think," Buffy answered

      "Good job," Draco said.

      "For what?"

      "It was meant to be a compliment, but it never hurts to be suspicious," he said with a feral grin.  "Especially with Slytherins."

      Buffy's shoulders sagged.  She realized Draco was trying to act natural and make light of things, but the offhand way he said that it never hurt to be suspicious was disappointing.  She could remember several friendships that had been lost, and several more that had been almost lost, by people being too suspicious.  She shrugged uncomfortably, and walked across the room to Willow, trying not to meet anyone else's eyes.

      "Hey Will," she said, plopping down next to her.  "How goes the morning study session?"

      "Not bad," Willow shrugged noncommittally.  "This actually shouldn't be too hard to get down over the summer, a lot of it is just a different way of looking at things I've been doing the whole time."

      "Uh-oh, doesn't sound like it's going to be so easy for me," Buffy replied.

      "Well, maybe not as easy as flying," Willow answered with a wry grin, "but I think you'll pick it up quickly.  You are … you, after all."

      "I am indeed," Buffy answered playfully, deliberately ignoring the fact that Willow had almost called her the Slayer; she wasn't sure if it meant anything here or not, but they had tacitly decided it was best not to bring up the subject.  "And I'm also hungry.  You?"

      "Sounds like a plan.  Just let me put these away."  Willow gathered her books and hurried back up the stairs to their room.  The other Slytherins began filing out to breakfast, and several others appeared from the different stairwells opening off the common room and headed straight for the exit as well.  Apparently the processions to the Great Hall as a group weren't required every day.  The only one who waited for them was Draco.

      Willow reappeared a few minutes later, and the three of them headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast.  Buffy began to understand something of what Draco had meant even before they reached the hall; indeed, they had barely gotten to the main stairwell before the people in pictures started alternately congratulating her, looking at her as though trying to size her up, or, in a few cases, asking her if she was anxious for the Quidditch season to start.

      "Those ones are the most honest," Draco said, after a few had asked the latter question.  "I guarantee you that's what all the rest are thinking."

      "But I've never played Quidditch," Buffy protested.  "Heck, I've never even _seen_ a game."

      "We can work on that," Draco promised.  Buffy smiled.  She had no idea exactly what Quidditch was, except that it was apparently some kind of sport that everyone in the wizarding world took very seriously, as she had heard it mentioned a hundred times in the past two days.  However, she did know that Draco played, and apparently took it fairly seriously.

      The Great Hall was already almost as full as it had been the previous night by the time the trio arrived.  Buffy caught more than a few glances in her direction, from all of the House tables, as she made her way to the same seats she and Willow had sat at the previous night.

      "You're not sitting there," Draco said as Buffy paused at her seat.

      "Oh?"

      "Come on.  You're at the head of the table today."

      "Uh … what's the deal?"

      Draco shrugged.  "Status," he explained.  "We're making an impression."

      Buffy remembered what Hermione had explained to her on the train, about Slytherin being the most political of the Houses.  Nonetheless, she had been only seconds from being placed in Gryffindor, and politics were about as far from being her thing as history.

      "I think I'd rather sit here with Willow," Buffy answered flatly.  "But you're welcome to sit with us, if you'd like."

      Draco grinned, unfazed.  "Willow's coming, too, you know."

      "I am?"

      "Of course.  Flitwick stopped by the dorm yesterday night, asking to see you, but you two had gone to bed early.  But he asked me to tell you that you'd won fifteen points for Slytherin for a perfect Levitation Charm under pressure."

      "Um … thanks?" Willow said hesitantly.

      "Yeah, what's with these points, anyway?" Buffy asked.  "No one explained that to me yet."

      Draco shot them a funny look.  "You didn't have a system like that in America?"

      "Like what?"

      Draco shrugged.  "Teachers can give and take points for doing things that make your House look good or bad.  The winner at the end of the year wins the House Cup, gets the hall all decorated in their colors," he passed a gesture around the room, with all the maroon and gold everywhere, "and gets a few other perks."

      "Oh, right, I get it," Buffy said, remembering what Hermione had told them on the train the previous day; she just hadn't said that it was based on points.  She had assumed it was just a teachers' vote or something.

      Willow caught on at the same time.  "All right, so that's what Hermione meant on the train.  So what does this have to do with us?"

      Draco looked at them as though amazed that they couldn't figure it out yet.  "Five hundred points will win the Cup almost any year.  Between the two of you, we've picked up fifty-five before the school year really even starts.  That'll put you at the head of the table, prefect or not."

      "Well …" Willow wavered.  Buffy shrugged.  She really didn't care one way or the other.  For one thing, she had a feeling that it was going to be just as easy—or easier—to lose those points than it was to gain them.

      Suddenly Willow stiffened, and something seemed to occur to her.  "Actually, I think I'll just stay here, but thanks for the offer."

      Draco seemed puzzled, and even a touch angry, and Buffy couldn't quite figure out what had made Willow's decision.  Then she remembered that Willow had been looking out across the room when she had said that, and she followed where Willow's eyes had been a moment earlier.  Then she understood.  Harry was not fond of Slytherins, and looking like she was in the Slytherin 'in crowd' couldn't possibly help.  

      Buffy shook her head.  She was beginning to understand how Slytherin worked.  She had been popular too, once, a long time ago.  It was just like when the cheerleaders and jocks asked a new kid to sit at the 'in crowd' tables at lunch.  Only the Slytherins all seemed to be even more concerned about status than even Cordelia had ever been.

      "I think we'll both stay here," she said after a moment.  Draco's eyes bulged, and he shook his head.  A moment later, after he couldn't think of anything else to say, he returned to his seat at the head of the table.  Buffy looked after him wistfully for a moment.  She had been hoping that she could have convinced him to stay; after all, he had come down here the previous night.

      "I think I'm losing my appetite," Willow mouthed sadly, though she reached for a small bowl of hash browns nearby.

      "I know the feeling," Buffy answered.

      "Now, now, you should at least be thankful you can eat at all," a voice from behind them said.

      Buffy and Willow turned around.  A translucent silver figure stood between them, gaunt-eyed and dressed in regal robes stained with silver blood.  Willow gave a short shriek and dropped the hash browns with a crash.  Buffy wasn't holding anything, but she was nonetheless out of her chair and backing up in a flash.

      "'morning, ladies," the ghost said with a formal bow.

      "That's the Bloody Baron, our house ghost," one of the second-years sitting nearby explained.

      Fortunately, Willow's outburst had not been alone in the hall, though it had been the only one at the Slytherin table.  Ghosts had suddenly appeared in the hall from every direction, some rising up from tables or the floor, others emerging from the walls and ceiling.  Gradually, as it became obvious that they were not under attack, Buffy's breathing steadied.  Willow, however, seemed to be having a little more difficulty taking everything in stride.

      "I don't think they're going to hurt anyone," Buffy comforted her.  "Look at them," she added, pointing across the room at Harry and his friends.  They were talking, and indeed laughing, with a tall ghost with a rapier at his hip.

      Willow looked, and finally seemed to settle down.  "You're right," she said, finally settling back into her seat.

      "That's Nearly Headless Nick," the Baron explained from behind him.  "Arrogant little git in the last few years.  We won the House Cup for six years running before Potter got here; they've had it every year since."

      "And, being the Slytherin House ghost, whatever that means, I'm sure you were quite meek and modest during your six-year run," Buffy observed pointedly.  The Baron actually managed to look a little sheepish.  For about a moment.

      Suddenly, the bowl of hash browns in front of Willow exploded, spattering her with potatoes.  Another ghost rose from the remnants of the bowl a moment later with a sharp cackle, a rather wild-eyed figure with a ill-behaved look on his face.  "Aww, isn't she pwetty?" he mocked in a pathetically fake childish tone.

      "Peeves!" the baron snarled, but the poltergeist, hardly interested in sticking around to face the Baron, was already sprinting … or at least floating very quickly … down the hall toward the exit.

      Buffy looked across the room and suddenly saw Harry and his friends laughing, along with several others around the hall, including many of the Slytherin table.  Buffy thought of trying to distract Willow momentarily, but realized quickly it was too late.  She had looked right over at Harry the moment the potatoes had hit her, and she was mortified.

      "Willow," Buffy warned dangerously as her friend reached within her robe.  "It's all right, come on, let's just get you cleaned up …"

      Willow's eyes had gone dark and she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the retreating figure of the poltergeist.  A few of the professors at the head table had stood up, nervous or stern expressions on their faces.

      "This should be good," the Baron said behind them.

      For some reason, that made Willow hesitate.  Some of the darkness cleared from her eyes.  However, Buffy could feel that she had already built up power for a spell, and she grinned dangerously.

      _"Defenestratus!"_ she called.

      An invisible hand suddenly seemed to lift Peeves off his feet and fling him into the air.  The poltergeist barely had time to let out a sharp, high-pitched "yeek!" before he was sent flying through one of the highest windows in the Great Hall.

      Buffy held her breath for a few more moments, then let it out explosively.  The professors who had stood at the head table returned to their seats.  Some were still as stern as they had been a moment ago, but most were shrugging it off, and a few were even smiling.

      The Baron gave Willow an amused look.  "'Defenestratus,' Miss Rosenberg?"

      Willow gave a halfhearted grin, and shrugged.  She was still covered in potatoes and flushing scarlet, though it was fading.

      Suddenly, however, a spontaneous display of fireworks erupted at the Gryffindor table, and Willow turned to see Harry and Ron setting off a small display of sparklers into the artificial sky from their place, both grinning at her with undisguised approval.  Willow relaxed, and the last of the flush faded from her face.  She began to laugh sheepishly, and shrugged in their direction with a modest smile.

      "Well, you're certainly off to a good start," said another voice from behind them.

      Buffy and Willow turned around to see a tiny, innocuous, elderly man with hair much like Dumbledore's only not quite as full.  Buffy remembered seeing him at the teachers' table moments earlier.

      "Um … hello, professor …?" Willow offered.

      The man turned a modestly reproving look back towards Draco at the head of the table, then turned back to them.  "Flitwick," he said.  "I stopped by yesterday but you'd turned in early."

      "Oh, yes, Draco told us, I just didn't know who you were," Willow explained.

      "Well, of course," he said.  He had a light, very teacherly way of speaking, although he didn't seem to take life very seriously.  "Anyway, you looked like you could use a little help," he said.  He pointed his wand at Willow, made a gesture, and mouthed, _"Hygienis femina."_

      Willow's skin and clothes were suddenly spotless … and her hair was perfectly arranged again on top of that.

      Buffy's eyes widened.  "What do you teach, again?"

      Flitwick gave an amused laugh.  "Charms," he said.  "Best subject there is."

      "I'm convinced," Willow said, looking herself over in amazement.

      Buffy turned to Willow.  "We _are_ taking that, right?" she asked eagerly.  Willow gave a knowing grin.

      "I like your enthusiasm," Flitwick said.  He really did speak and move with a lot of energy, for someone his apparent age.  "Like I said, you're off to a good start, Miss Rosenberg.  I think our dear hat may be getting a little old.  I think you'd have made quite a Ravenclaw."

      "Oh, are you …?" Willow trailed off.

      "Head of Ravenclaw?  Well, isn't it obvious?" he said.

      On a second look, Buffy didn't have trouble seeing what he was talking about.  He looked very much like a scientist, only in wizard's robes.

      "Oh yes, and Moody asked me to tell you he's given another three points to Slytherin," Flitwick added in parting as he headed back to his table.

      "Nice job, Will," Buffy congratulated her.

      "I guess that … Peeves? … isn't too popular," Willow said with a hesitant shrug.

      "Bloody wanker, he is," the Baron growled from behind them, excusing himself and drifting back towards the head of the table. 

      "Mail's here!" someone called.

      Buffy and Willow looked up.  The air above them was suddenly filled with a flock of owls, some carrying letters in their beaks, some with small parcels tied to their legs or gripped in their talons.

      "Nifty," Willow observed.

      "If e-mail isn't going to work," Buffy added.

      The owls all seemed to find where they were going, though Buffy and Willow noticed an owl crash-land with a loud splash into the punch bowl in front of Ron, much to his chagrin.  From the looks of the reaction of his friends, it wasn't the first time that had happened.

      Their attention was suddenly diverted, however, by an owl that had just landed in front of them, carrying a small stack of letters tied together with a piece of string.

      "Whoa, we get mail?" Buffy said.

      "Looks that way," Willow said, untying the parcel.  "Hey, it's from Giles!" she exclaimed when she read the return address.  There was no address, just the name 'Giles' in the upper left corner of the envelope.

      "Looks like a lot of the gang sent something," Buffy confirmed.

      "Are we supposed to open them now?" Willow asked, looking around to see what others were doing.  It was odd; the Gryffindors were all opening their immediately, throwing scraps of envelopes everywhere with childish abandon.  Most of the Hufflepuffs opened theirs immediately as well, though less conspicuously.  About half of the Ravenclaws did.  Most of the Slytherins slipped their letters away into their robes; some left the room immediately.

      "You know," Willow said, "not to look overly Slytherin-ish, but we might want to open these somewhere else, just in case they say anything about … you know … us."

      Buffy bit her lip.  She certainly didn't want to take the chance of opening something mentioning her as the Slayer in public, and it wouldn't look any more suspicious to leave the room than it would to be looking over her shoulder trying to keep anyone passing from getting a glimpse, like a poker player hiding his hand.

      "Fine," she said after a moment, slipping her letters into her robe.  "But you'd better not make me wait to long.  Sl … Slytherins aren't known for their patience."  She bit her lip again at what she had been about to say.  She had no idea whether or not Slytherins were known for their patience, but she had very nearly said something else.

      Willow shrugged.  "You finished?"

      "Eh?  Oh, breakfast," Buffy answered.  It had taken her a second.  She looked at her plate; she hadn't eaten much, but she was good for a while and she was much more anxious for news than food.  "Yeah, let's go."

      They excused themselves from the table and left the hall.  Buffy cast a quick glance over her shoulder towards Draco as they reached the door, but he was not looking at her.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **COMING SOON:** Chapter 9, "Mail."  Should be a short little chappie with some words of wisdom and encouragement via owl post, courtesy of the left-behind Scoobies of Sunnydale.

**      SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_      Buffy wrinkled her nose.  "You think I could get a cell phone here?"_

_      "International long distance and bad reception?"_

      **ONE FINAL NOTE …** it is now 21 hours and 5 minutes to kickoff …

      **_LET'S GO BUCKS!!_******


	9. Mail

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.  I'm not making any money off this; in fact, if I didn't do this, I could probably get better grades and make more money someday.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      **THANKS TO ALL REVIEWERS,** especially first-timers!  Always good to see new perspectives on things!

      _BashfulC:_ I haven't decided, and I may leave it open since I don't think Peeves is going to play a huge part in all this.

      _Kandice: _Well, the cheerleaders might be a little over the top (not that I have anything against skimpy cheerleader outfits, of course), but thanks!  Yours was one of the more … enthusiastic … reviews that I believe I've gotten.

      _ShadowElfBard, Phoenix Lumen, charmedfanatic3000, DragonStar, _and all you others who have been following this for a long time now: thanks for your continued support, it makes pressing on with this a lot easier.

      This chappie should be pretty short, but I think it needs to be here.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

      **CHAPTER 9:**

**      MAIL**

      Willow didn't feel like climbing all the way back up all the stairs to Slytherin Tower; she guessed that living her was going to keep her in shape, if nothing else, but that didn't mean she had to act like a marathoner.  The library was much closer, and there was plenty of room to find a place to read and talk without being overheard.  Almost no one was using the library this early on a summer morning.

      They found a small booth in the far corner and spread their letters out on the table.  They had quite a few to go through.

      "No secrets?" Buffy said, just as she was about to open her first letter.

      "No secrets," Willow confirmed.  For some reason, they had both been put in the most suspicious House in Hogwarts, but she was not about to go down that path if she could at all help it.  She tore open her first letter and began to read softly.

      _"Dear Willow,_

_      I hope you're adjusting to Hogwarts well.  I've explained to everyone else here what's happening.  Most of what's happening, anyway.  They know you're in England.  Everyone sends their love and support.  If you want to send anyone anything, just address an owl to me and I'll be sure they get it._

_      Your parents asked me to say hello.  Well, actually, they didn't, but I talked to them and I feel that they should say hello, so I'm saying hello for them.  They did seem quite concerned about where you are, however; they stopped by for more than an hour to give me the third degree yesterday.  I told them you were studying abroad at Cambridge.  I don't know what I should be surprised at more, that you didn't tell them where you were going, or that they didn't bother to ask until a few days after you left._

_      I'm making an odd clucking sound with my tongue, in case you were wondering._

_      --Giles_

_      P.S. What House did you get in?"_

"I wonder how he'd feel about the fact that I'm in Slytherin," Willow sighed after she finished.  She had actually been surprised by her parents' interest in where she was heading before she had left, too; the only time her mother had shown such interest in her life before that was when she had nearly burned Willow at the stake.

      "Hey we're both there," Buffy answered.  "Here's mine from the old Watcher—this is going to sound deja vu:"

      _"Dear Buffy,_

_      I hope you're adjusting to Hogwarts well.  I've let everyone else know what's happening, or at least that you're both in England.  Everyone wishes you the best of luck.  We miss you here but we're really proud of you for going with her.  She needs you.  Everyone sends their love and support.  If you want to send anyone anything, just address an owl to me and I'll be sure they get it._

_      --Giles_

_      P.S. Did you get into Gryffindor?  That was my old House.  Class of '72.  I think you'd fit really well there._

_      P.P.S.  Try to stay out of trouble."_

      "Hey!" Buffy said as she finished reading the last part.  "How come _I'm_ the one getting the warning about staying out of trouble?"

      "Hmmm," Willow answered with a knowing grin.  Buffy gave her a hurt look, though she was having trouble hiding the smile at the corners of her mouth.

      Willow picked up the next letter on her stack.  It was from Xander.  She pulled it open and began to read:

      _"Hey Will,_

_      Kinda harsh, not saying goodbye, but it sounds like whoever these British people were didn't give you much of a choice.  It's really lonely around here without you two, even though your home sweet Hellmouth has been quiet the past couple weeks.  Good luck, whatever they're having you do … get well soon.  And Giles told us they don't have phones where you are, but keep in touch._

_      Xander_

_      P.S. Friends don't let friends forget to send them souvenirs!"_

Buffy laughed, tore her next envelope open, and began to read.

      _"To the Buffster in Britain,_

_      Missing you already, but I understand why you left.  We all would have if we'd had a chance.  By the way, Faith seems to have mellowed out a lot since two years ago … but still kinda scary … anyway, she's taking over the Hellmouth-watching and everything's been quiet here.  Hope the two of you don't have to stay away too long.  Take care of her._

_      Xander_

_      P.S. Don't forget to come back with a Giles accent!"_

      Willow smiled.  She had never dreamed reading letters could be so therapeutic, but she was feeling better already.  Peeves' prank and all the unwanted attention and politics at the Slytherin table were already receding far into the back of her mind.  She picked up her next one and began to read.

      _"Willow,_

_      Hey.  Heard you're in England.  Far away from here.  Learning not to destroy things.  I think that's a good idea.  Focus on shops and planets.  Come home soon.  We miss you._

_      Anya."_

      Willow squirmed, but Buffy laughed uproariously.  "That's so Anya," she said, tearing open her next letter.

      _"Hey B.,_

_      Whoever your British friends are, they sprung me and now I'm helping keep the lid on things here, so I owe them one.  Heard you're helping Red out with a rough time.  I know how that goes.  Way to not let her go off alone.  Just be yourself and always be there for her.  If I can come back, so can she._

_      Faith_

_      P.S. Angel sucks at writing, but he says hi."_

      Willow smiled, and was more than a little surprised.  "Never thought I'd hear something like that from Faith," she admitted.  "That was almost … well, that was really good, actually."

      "Yeah, now I'm starting to really wonder what's going on back home," Buffy answered.  "But it sounds like she's really stepping up."

      "There's hope for me yet," Willow said expansively, tearing open her next letter.  Buffy looked like she was about to protest that there was never any doubt of that, but Willow had already begun to read.

      _"Hey Willow,_

_      Giles says you've gone to England to work out whatever it was that you're dealing with.  Good luck.  We're all pulling for you._

_      Dawn"_

Willow grimaced.  The memory of what she had done with Dawn, both at Rack's den and in the car afterward, flashed back through her mind for a moment, and she clenched back a tear.  She had almost forgotten that she had more than just nearly ending the world to answer for.  Buffy gave her hand a squeeze and opened her last latter, also from her sister.

      _"Hey Buffy,_

_      Wish you were still here, though I get why you left.  It's kind of lonely here without you, though Spike keeps me company.  (I'm sure you're thrilled about that!  Oh, and souvenirs from faraway siblings always help deal with loneliness …)  Keep an eye open and come home soon.  We all miss you here._

_      Dawnie"_

      Willow smiled and sat back in her bench.  She didn't say anything for a while, and Buffy didn't seem to mind.  The booth was comfortable, and Buffy just laid out along her bench until Willow felt like saying anything else.  Eventually, partly just to break the silence, and partly because she couldn't think of anything deeper to say, she said simply, "I miss them."

      Buffy sat up again.  "Me, too," she admitted.

      "I know I've said this before like a hundred times, but … thanks for coming with me.  I'm really glad you're here, not just your letters."

      Buffy got up and moved over to sit beside Willow, and put her arm around her.  "I'm glad, too," she said.  "Especially 'cause I'd hate writing letters.  Ick.  Can't believe these people have never heard of phones."

      Willow laughed.  "I don't know, I think it has a certain charm," she said.  "And you ought to be writing them anyway—they're going to want to hear from you, too."

      Buffy wrinkled her nose.  "You think I could get a cell phone here?"

      "International long distance and bad reception?"

      "Probably no reception out here.  Wherever we are," Buffy sighed, casting a glance out the window.  "I don't think I've written a letter since … well, since I ran away from home, and probably not for years before that."

"Well, it's a summer for new things," Willow said matter-of-factly.

"Trying new things is the new Chinese food place, not sending letters from England by birdmail."

"Stranger things have happened.  To both of us."

      "Touché."

      "Anyway," Willow said, rising to her feet, "I'm going to go back and study for a while.  You up for it?"

      Buffy blew out an exasperated breath.  "Might as well.  Gotta start sometime … what the hell were these people thinking anyway?  We've got like three months to catch up with people who've been doing this for five years!"

      "We don't need to learn everything they ever learned," Willow reminded her.  "Just enough to be able to fake it."

      "Hey, just like high school!" Buffy joked as they gathered their things and headed for the door.

      "You think you're joking," Willow said.  "Think of how much kids in the real—er, regular—world forget every summer between grades.  And most people don't learn a whole lot of new skills after they leave school, just whatever they need for their job.  I don't think it's really that different here."

      "Maybe," Buffy said.  Willow couldn't tell whether her friend really believed her or not, but she had a feeling that Buffy would pick up everything she needed pretty quickly.  Magic flowed in the heart and soul of the Slayer; Willow had felt it during the time when her powers were at their peak, the essence of the Slayer burning like a desert sun in the spirit world.  She still had a human mind and thoughts, so all the technical subjects would probably elude her, but Willow had noticed Snape avoiding most of the subjects that would be the most purely mental when he had scheduled Buffy's classes—except, of course, for his own Potions course.  At least, that was Willow's best guess.

      "And you'd better study hard," Willow chided, "unless you want to get sent back to take classes with the ten-year-olds."

      Buffy looked horrorstruck.  "All right, I'll study, I'll study," she promised fervently as the two friends left the room.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **COMING SOON:**  Chapter 10, "Dinner."  Buffy and Willow get started on their training, as well as have to prepare for Harry's departure, since he he needs to spend the summers at home.

**      SNEAK PREVIEW:  **

_      "Oh my gosh, that's cruel.  He's cruel.  He's evil.  It _is_ just like the last time you told me to seize the moment."_

_      "Except for the fangs and graveyard."_

_      "Well, yeah, but still, all with the cruelness and the evil."_****

**      AUTHOR'S NOTE:**  The time is now 1:38 a.m., and M*ch*g*n is still evil.  Grrrr.


	10. Dinner

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      **REVIEWERS … I LOVE YOU ALL!!**

      Wow … I didn't expect to get so many for such a short chappie!

_spacecatdet: _You wrote "Hogwart's students start when they are 11, not 10, which means the girls have to be aged to 17 not 16;" year 1 begins at age 11, 2@12, 3@13, 4@14, 5@15, and sixth year at age 16 … or maybe my American math education missed something …

      _Athene Saile: _I wanted the events to begin immediately after "Grave" (May 21, 2002) and HP-OotP (year unknown but clearly ending at the start of summer), so I worked in a summer session.

      _midoth:_ thanks for the suggestion, and I'll definitely see what I can do with that in future chapters! … Though it may be a while, as I've got the next several already pretty much written.

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 10:**

**      DINNER**

      Buffy and Willow spent most of the rest of the day closeted in their dorm room, where Willow had left the books she borrowed from the library.  They skipped lunch, and only left the room twice, both times to go up the stairs to the roof of Slytherin Tower to practice their magic where they would be unlikely to damage anything if anything went wrong.

      Buffy didn't feel like she was doing badly, and Willow assured her that she wasn't.  In just a few hours, she had already managed to levitate a quill pen, transform a matchstick into a needle, stun a few unsuspecting insects, summon a dim light from the end of her wand, boil and freeze water, set a small piece of cloth on fire, magnify her vision, and accomplish a whole list of other tasks from different first-year books from several years ago that Willow had borrowed from the library earlier that day.  Buffy knew Willow wasn't lying; the books themselves said that learning what she had learned in one day should have taken two weeks, though the books didn't assume one would be working from sunup to sundown.

      For all of her own accomplishments and Willow's reassurances, however, it was fairly clear that Willow was already miles ahead of her.  Watching the redheaded wiccan work was something else.  While Buffy was managing to levitate a quill pen, Willow had actually managed to levitate herself, even if she only managed to lift herself a few inches for a few seconds.  She had also transfigured a newspaper into a sundial, water into coffee, insects into pebbles, then the pebbles into sugar cubes for the coffee, and the coffee cup into an old-fashioned pocket-watch when she was finished.  She had summoned a much brighter light from the tip of her wand than Buffy had been able to manage, and had even managed to slow down the breeze blowing atop the tower for a minute or so.  Of course, Buffy had seen Willow use much more powerful magic than that, but Willow seemed to be determined to do things the Hogwarts way—which Buffy heartily approved of, because she never detected the slightest hint of the darkness in her friends' eyes that had betrayed when she had drawn too deeply on powers best left alone.

      "How far ahead are you already?" Buffy asked after Willow slowed the wind.

      Willow coughed uncomfortably.  "We're both kind of behind, you know."

      "You know what I mean."

      "Well, that one's in the third-year textbook."

      "Don't tell me you've covered three years in a day," Buffy growled.  That was just completely unfair.

      Willow laughed demurely.  "No, no, it's not like that … how many times did we ever cover a complete textbook from cover to cover at school?"

      "Not sure.  I didn't usually get from the cover to page one."

      Willow threw up her hands in mock-helplessness.  "Teachers are doing really well if they get through half of any textbook and get their students to remember a quarter of that by the end of the course."

      "Hey, not my fault.  I kind of had other things going on."

      "True, but they were the kind of things that made bad excuse notes."

      "'A vampire ate my homework,'" Buffy tried aloud.  "Nah, guess not."

      Willow smiled.  "A little strong on the pushing things there."

      "Tell me about it.  Most the teachers in Sunnydale were less sympathetic than the vampires.  At least the fang gang knew what I went through every night."

      "Let's just hope the ones here are a little nicer.  Though that might be expecting a little much."

      "Yeah, I can't wait for my first Potions class with Snape."

      "How do you think I feel?  I've got to take private tutoring in Occlumency with him, just me and Harry."

      "In that case," Buffy answered with a wicked grin, "I would guess you feel pretty darn good about it."  

      Willow's ears reddened.  "Well, it might not be _all_ bad," she admitted modestly.  Buffy burst out laughing, and the red in Willow's ears deepened and spread to her cheeks.  "We're so pathetic, aren't we?" the wiccan asked after another moment.

      "Oh, but we've got it down to such an art.  The gang back home would be so proud."

      "That reminds me," Willow added, "we should head down to dinner soon.  I want to get Harry's address before he leaves, just in case we want to keep in touch during the summer."

      "He's leaving?"  Buffy hadn't heard that.

      Willow nodded.  "Apparently he has to spend his summers at home for some reason; he was just here getting some books to take home to study, and visit Ron and Hermione and his friends for a couple of days.  He won't be back until fall."

      "And you're feeling how about this?"

      "Not like I've got a say in it, is it?  Besides, you know, it has its advantages—like being able to study without being distracted, and me not risking making an idiot of myself and losing whatever vague self-esteem I have left."

      "You're so not OK with that."  Willow was one of the worst liars Buffy had ever met.

      "Did I not already mention the patheticness that is us?" Willow asked morosely.

      "You did, and our patheticness now requires us to go to dinner to get your prefect's address," Buffy answered, putting her arm around her friend and pulling her to her feet.  "Seize the moment, remember?"

      "The last time you told me that, I ended up getting led into a graveyard by a vampire," Willow reminded her pointedly.  "And stop calling him 'my prefect!'"

      "Just staying optimistic," Buffy said lightly.

      "And what in our history with the opposite sex would make you do a thing like that?"

      "Hey!" Buffy pouted.  She had left herself so open for that one.

      "Maybe we should just go to dinner late … you know, I can get his address tomorrow morning at breakfast …"

      "No, we're going to dinner right now," Buffy answered firmly.  "We're going to get you Harry Potter's address and you're going to waste countless hours for the rest of the summer when you should be studying writing to him."

      "But …"

      "No buts!" Buffy cut her off as she guided her friend towards the exit.

      "Yes, Ma'am," Willow said with mock-modesty.

      Dinner had already started by the time they arrived; Harry was already sitting near the head of the Gryffindor table, surrounded by Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and a few other older Gryffindors that Buffy had seen him with earlier.  Buffy noted that the Gryffindors didn't seem to have the same politics going on at their table that the Slytherins did; from the sound of things, Harry probably had as much status as anyone in Gryffindor, but he was seating a good six or seven seats down from the head of the table, and no one else seemed to really care about where they were sitting.  Or how they were eating.  That just seemed to be the Gryffindor way: fiery, emotional, and dramatic.  Her mind went back to the wild cheering that had erupted when she had flown out of the dungeons the previous night with Torrence.  She had saved people's lives before; she was usually rewarded with breathless thank-you's and stunned relief.  The Gryffindors had acted like the Sunnydale football team after winning the district title.

      She shook her head to clear her mind as she followed Willow to their seats.  She was beginning to understand why she had ended up in Slytherin.  She had barely been here for a day and she was already starting to understand the natures and politics between the Houses, without even trying.

      She glanced up the Slytherin table just before sitting down next to Willow.  Several faces quickly and conspicuously turned away.  Buffy scowled.  They were still trying to figure out why Buffy and Willow had refused to move up to the head of the table.  No doubt they had read all kinds of politics into it.

      "Will, could you pass the crab salad?" she said as she sat down, deliberately ignoring the stares.  _Maybe I deserve to be a Slytherin,_ she seethed inwardly, _but I don't have to play by the Slytherin rules._  Of course, she realized a moment later, not playing by the rules was known to be a Slytherin trait.  She rolled her eyes at the artificial sky.  Talk about a no-win situation.

      Willow smiled, somehow understanding what Buffy was doing, and passed the crab salad.  Buffy noticed that Willow was studiously avoiding looking across the room.

      "Psst psst … he's still there," Buffy whispered in Willow's ear.  The redheaded wiccan blushed again.

      "I can't just go walking across the room and ask him, you know?"

      "Of course not," Buffy answered dismissively.  "Just wait until he leaves.  Catch him outside."

      "What if he … well …"

      "What?"

      "Doesn't want to be caught?"

      "Well, you'll never know if you don't give it a shot.  Besides, why come down here just to not ask?"

      "Because you dragged me?"

      "Well, besides that."

      They bantered back and forth for a few more minutes before, out of the corner of her eye, Buffy noticed Harry getting up from the table.  She bit her lip.  He was leaving early, and Ron and Hermione had gotten up with him.

      "Come on, Will, time to go."

      Emotions warred on Willow's face, and she eventually simply threw her head down.  Her lip trembled dangerously.  "I can't," she said.  "I'm sorry, I just can't, I mean I barely know him."

      "We've been through this already," Buffy hissed exasperatedly.  However, a moment later, Buffy realized, Willow was right.  If she dragged him out to talk to him, she'd more than likely either get utterly tongue-tied or gibber like a loon, and it didn't seem very likely that Willow would be any better by breakfast the following day.

      "All right," Buffy said a moment later.  "_I'll_ go talk to him."

      "No, it's all right, you don't have to."

      "You mean I wouldn't if you would," Buffy threw back over her shoulder as she pushed back her chair.  She didn't give Willow time to send a retort her way; Harry had already nearly reached the doors at the back of the hall, and if Willow wanted to argue the point, she was going to have to get up and come after her.

      Buffy was halfway back down the hall when Harry reached the doors at the far end.  He stopped for a moment, glanced backward, then shrugged and turned back through the doors, following his friends.  Buffy spared time for a look behind her, trying to follow where the black-haired boy's eyes had gone.  They had clearly been turned towards the Slytherin table.  Buffy saw Malfoy at the head of the Slytherin table scowling after the departing young wizard with undisguised disdain, but she didn't think Potter had been looking at him.  The shrug Harry had given before leaving didn't look like the likely response of a Gryffindor to such a challenging stare, particularly from Malfoy.  It had been much more anticlimactic than that.  Buffy looked at Willow; Willow was paying studious attention to her food, not meeting anyone's gaze but her plate's.

      Buffy set off again for the back doors a moment later.  She reached them just in time to see Harry and his two friends taking a stairway out of the Entrance Hall.  She hurried after them; no one seemed to be watching, so she didn't feel any more reservations about running.

      "Harry!" she called as she reached the bottom of the stairs.  Harry, Ron and Hermione were just at the top.  Harry turned around.  When he saw who it was, he motioned Ron and Hermione to go on ahead; a moment later, sharing a shrug, the two of them did so.  Buffy climbed the stairs to meet him at the second floor landing.

"Hey, Buffy," he said as she approached.

      "Hey," she answered.  "Heard you were leaving tomorrow morning."

      "Yeah," Harry admitted, with a rather forlorn look.  Apparently he didn't like wherever it was he was going, or was strongly attached to Hogwarts, or both.

      "Anyway, I was wondering if I could have your address—in case we want to send … uh, owls … back and forth over summer?"

      Harry gave her an appraising look.  "_You_ were wondering?" he asked slowly.

      "Well, all right, Willow was, too."

      "And you've never sent mail by owl?"

      "No, sorry, kind of new at all this."

      "No, no, it's fine," Harry answered.  There was an unreadable look in his eyes, but it wasn't distant or unfriendly in any way.  "So Willow wanted my address?"

      "Well, yeah."

      "Nope."

      "Excuse me?"

      "Nope," he repeated, and she could tell that he was being serious, even though he was grinning and his tone was light, even amused.  Buffy's mouth dropped open, and she wondered if she were losing her touch.  Harry continued a moment later.  "But let her know if she would ask me herself, I might give it to her."  He started up the stairs again for a moment, then turned around.  "You can tell, her, too, that it would mean a lot to me if she would.  Friends don't need anyone between them."  A moment later, he was following his friends.

      Buffy was left staring after him for a minute, not knowing what on Earth she could say to him to press the matter further, and a minute later, the moment to do so was gone.  Her first instinct was to be offended, but then it came to her that Harry was indirectly giving Willow the exact same advice that Buffy herself had given her only moments earlier.  For some reason, it just seemed less—well, appropriate—coming from him, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why.  She also felt partly like she had been turned down, even though she was only asking for a friend.  However, a moment later, the impact of the last thing he had said hit her.

      _Friends don't need anyone between them._  She had taken it as just a British way of saying friends shouldn't need go-betweens.  But it wasn't.  Buffy could now go back to Willow and say that Harry had _not_ given Buffy his address, which would help stop Willow from thinking that Harry was, as Buffy herself had said earlier, 'stealing her prefect.'  If Willow asked Harry herself, there was no chance of her thinking he was just giving his address because Buffy was asking.

      She thought of how McGonagall had told her yesterday that she'd have made a good Gryffindor.  It occurred to her that Harry might have made a good Slytherin.

      It didn't look like Willow had so much as looked to either side for the entire time Buffy had been gone, though it looked like she had at least been eating.  Buffy sat down next to her with a friendly smile.

      "Well?" Willow asked nervously.

      "Nope," Buffy said lightly.

      "What?" Willow looked confused, and a little crestfallen.

      "He wouldn't give me his address," Buffy explained, softly, trying to keep anyone else from listening.  She imagined she looked very Slytherin-ish, talking in near-whispers.  "But he said he'd give it to you if you asked.  And, for what it's worth, he sounded like he wanted you to."

      Willow's eyes widened, mostly with fear and nerves, but Buffy saw a quick, excited light pass behind them before the nerves took over.  "You're kidding, right?"

      "Serious as Snyder," Buffy promised.

      "You're never _that_ serious."

      "I know.  Good thing, too.  But I'm not kidding."

      "Oh my gosh, that's cruel.  He's cruel.  He's evil.  It _is_ just like the last time you told me to seize the moment."

      "Except for the fangs and graveyard."

      "Well, yeah, but still, all with the cruelness and the evil."  Nevertheless, despite her nerves, Willow was clearly in a much better mood than she had been ten minutes ago, and Buffy was smiling again.

      "So, what's the plan?" Buffy asked a moment later.

      "Still working on that," Willow admitted.  "But, well, at least I'm starting to feel that there might at least be one."

      A knot loosened in Buffy's stomach, and her smile brightened.  "We're getting somewhere."

            *           *           *           *           *

      **COMING SOON:**  Chapter 11, "The Owlery."  Willow and Hermione share some grousing about Divination … and Willow and Harry finally get some alone time.

      **SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_      "And I'm going to guess you've never sent mail by owl before?"_

_      "Nope," Willow admitted.  "But I think I'll figure it out.  Why?  Is it hard?"_

_      Harry gave her a secretive smile, and scooted forward on his broom to make room, motioning her to sit down behind him.  "Why don't I go show you?" he asked._

      **FINAL NOTE:**  For anyone else out there whose future involves the LSAT, may you age less when you take it than I just did this morning.  I feel like a dementor just came up and sucked the life out of me.


	11. The Owlery

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:  **Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      _DragonKatGal_ gets a sticker for using the word "fecking" in a review!

      _Jedi Buttercup:_ good points; hope I get to a few of them in this chappie.

      Thanks again to everyone else who reviewed, too!  I love reading them.  Not too many Willow-centric fics get this many.  Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy—or it would if I had it in me to feel warm and fuzzy. J  Hope you enjoy this installment!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 11:**

**      THE OWLERY**

      Despite what she had said to Buffy, Willow really didn't have much of a plan.  She figured she'd just get up early and catch Harry before breakfast.  The more she thought about that, however, the less appealing it seemed.  She didn't want to loiter in the Entrance Hall all morning, with so many people around.  Nonetheless, she didn't have any idea where to find Harry before then, and the school was enormous, so she didn't have any idea where to begin.

      After leaving the table, Willow made her way to the library.  It was the only place she could think of to go, since she didn't feel like heading back to Slytherin Tower.  In addition, she already had a list of a few more books that she wanted from it.

      As it happened, she lucked out, or at least partially so.  Hermione was in the library as well.  From the impression she'd gotten so far, that wasn't entirely lucky, as Hermione apparently spent as much time in there as the librarian, but it came to her that Hermione would probably have some idea where Harry was.  The Gryffindor girl was alone, taking notes off of an enormous scroll that looked like a star chart.

      "Hey," Willow said, drawing alongside.

      Hermione looked over at her, and gave a hesitant smile, and once again, Willow as left wondering what the other girl was thinking.  "Back for more already?" Hermione asked.

      "What?  Oh, sort of … I got a chapter into the Divination textbook I borrowed yesterday, and flipped through the rest, and it was all really dense and confusing and didn't make a whole lot of sense—plus it wasn't really that well-written.  So I figured I'd try to find a better one."

      For some reason, she seemed to have struck a chord that Hermione could relate to, as she wrinkled her nose and shook her head emphatically in disgust.  "Good luck," she spat.  "They're pretty much all that way."

      "Did you take it?"

      "Three years of it," Hermione admitted.  "A complete waste.  Most of the time, the teacher just sat around trying to sound prophetic and predicting about a thousand different unpleasant ways for Harry to die.  There's a new teacher now, though, a centaur mystic.  Maybe he'll be a little better."

      "It certainly sounds interesting, anyway," Willow admitted.  She'd never seen a centaur.

      "Maybe, but the subject's still hogwash."

      "Apparently, since Harry looked alive and kicking."

      Hermione laughed.  "Yeah, he's survived five encounters with Voldemort so far, so people who predict his early death seem to be betting against the odds."

      Willow's eyes widened.  "_Five?_  So, he's met him more than just as a baby?"

      "Oh yes.  Once during our first year, when … well, I'm going to go on forever if I get started, you should get him to tell you himself.  He tells it better than me, anyway."

      "Oh, is he coming?"

      "What?  Oh, no, he and Ron are out at the Quidditch pitch.  He doesn't get much chance to practice during the summer, so he grabs every chance he gets."

      "Oh.  All right.  Well, thanks … I'm going to go try and find a better book.  Wish me luck."

      "You're going to need more than luck, you're going to need a bloody miracle, but good luck."

      Willow grinned.  "Thanks."  She headed back into the Divination section of the library, but she had no intention of staying long.  She quickly found a different treatise on the subject than the one she had been using—this one a lot shorter—and proceeded to the checkout.  She had no intention of going back to her room, though, although it was tempting.  Instead, she asked a passing Ravenclaw which direction the Quidditch pitch was, and headed off in that direction.

      It turned out to be somewhat difficult to miss, once she realized what it was.  It was a wooden stadium built just outside the castle, nearly half a mile in circumference, with a set of three rings high in the air above each end of the field.  The top of each of the dozen  wide wooden pillars holding up the stadium opened out into stands, each with room for thirty people or so, and a wide wooden balcony ran around the stadium, just below the top of the wall, for more spectators.  Willow climbed up into one of the stands, managing to keep her fear of heights under control.

      Two familiar figures were zooming around on broomsticks near one of the rings.  Harry was holding a red ball about the size of a soccer ball, and was attempting it to toss it past Ron and through one of the hoops; he was succeeding on about two of every three passes.  

      Willow just sat and watched for a while.  She could see that Harry really enjoyed flying; the expression on his face was much like the one on Buffy's early that morning, though he was much more intense.  Ron was good, too, but didn't make it look as effortless as Harry did.

      Several minutes passed before the two boys decided to take a break.  They floated towards one of the other stands, two down from Willow.  Harry had just raised his head to take a drink from a water bottle when he spotted Willow.  Willow swallowed and waved shyly.

      Harry turned and said something to Ron that Willow was much too far away to hear, then mounted his Firebolt and glided over to where Willow sat.  Ron stayed behind, and flew back toward the castle a moment later.

      "Hope you're not coming to spy on us for Slytherin," Harry chided with a smile.

      "What?  Oh, no, no, I'm not, I swear."

      Harry laughed.  "It's fine—it's not like I'm a chaser, anyway, so you really couldn't say much even if you were going to."

      "Still, I wasn't."

      "It's all right, I believe you.  So why _did_ you come down here?"

      "Well, I was just going to ask you … for your address.  You know, if you'd like to send mail during the rest of the summer?  If you'd like?"

      Harry grinned at the nervousness in her voice.  "I'd love to," he said, reassuringly.

      Willow's eyes brightened.  "You would?"

      "Sure.  You're going to be staying here at Hogwarts the whole time, right?"

      "Mm-hmm."

      "And I'm going to guess you've never sent mail by owl before?"

      "Nope," Willow admitted.  "But I think I'll figure it out.  Why?  Is it hard?"

      Harry gave her a secretive smile, and scooted forward on his broom to make room, motioning her to sit down behind him.  "Why don't I go show you?" he asked.

      "Where are we going?"

      "The Owlery."

      "Um … do we have to fly?"

      "It's a long way walking.  Lots of annoying stairs."

      "Well … still …"

      "Come on, I'll go slower.  It's not like we're trying to catch a moving train."

      Willow took a deep breath, then another.  Eventually, she slowly eased herself down behind him on the Firebolt.  This time, he took a little more time to get her seated properly, and to get her hands firmly clenched around his waist.

      "Here we go," he said, and they were off.  Willow scrunched in even more tightly behind him.

      He set a much more leisurely pace than he had the previous day, and after a minute, Willow started breathing earlier.  Harry held the broom steady; in fact, the ride was smoother than any car Willow had ever ridden in.  They were higher, up however, and Willow schooled herself into not looking downward.

      "Sorry to interrupt your practice," Willow added, just for something to say as they flew.

      "It's fine, we were going to be done in another half hour anyway.  Ron's a prefect, so he can go out again after dark if he wants to, and I was playing a different position than I usually play … do you know much about Quidditch?"

      Willow shook her head as best she could, resting sideways in the small of Harry's back as it was.  "I'm new to all this, I didn't grow up in this world."

      "I didn't either," Harry said.  "But I've been here for six years, now, so I've had time to get used to it.  Quidditch is pretty much the only sport in the wizarding world.  There's seven players to a team—three chasers, one keeper, two beaters, and one seeker.  The chasers do just what I was doing there, trying to put the quaffle—that red ball—through the hoops, past the other team's keeper.  Ron's ours.  The beaters have bats, and they try to knock a different kind of ball, called a bludger—think of a shot put with a really nasty temper—into players on the other team, and stop the other team's beaters from knocking bludgers into their own players.  The seeker has to hunt down a tiny gold ball that moves incredibly fast, called the golden snitch—whichever seeker gets it wins a hundred and fifty points and ends the game.  That's what I usually do."

      "Sounds like fun—though I think I'd understand better if I saw a game."

      Harry nodded.  "Usually helps.  I'm sure you could go watch the Slytherin team practice once school starts."

      "Maybe."

      "Maybe," Harry agreed.  "Or you could just wait for the games, like most people.  It certainly sounds like you'll have enough to keep you busy.  We're here."

      Willow looked up, and saw them approaching the roof of a low tower jutting off from the keep.  Well, low was a relative term, Willow thought as she finally cast one glance downward.  They were still at least twelve stories up.  Harry held the broom still while she dismounted.

      They went down a short staircase into the top floor of the tower, which Willow saw was all one giant, high-vaulted room, like an enormous attic.  There had to be at least two hundred owls here, some just flying around loose, others—more expensive-looking ones—in large cages.  There was a small, enclosed booth in one corner, which Harry led Willow towards.  A small counter ran around three inside walls of the booth, and there were several inkwells, stacks of parchment, envelopes, and small bags of birdseed there as well.

      Harry tossed a few knuts in a small ceramic pot next to the entrance as they came in, then walked over to one of the counters.

      "What are you doing?" Willow asked curiously.

      "I'm writing a letter.  Then I'll send it, so you can see how it's done."

      "Oh, OK," she said uneasily.  She wasn't sure how long he intended to make this letter.

      "Don't worry, it'll be quick," he said.  True to his word, he was finished a moment later.  He packaged the letter in an envelope and led Willow out of the booth.

      "Don't you need to address it first?" Willow asked, seeing that Harry had left the envelope blank.

      "They do that out here," he said, with the same secretive smile he had worn out on the Quidditch pitch.  "Just watch, you'll get the idea."

      He walked up to one of the owls that was flying around loose—a scrawny little brown bird that didn't look like it would last long in a hard wind.  He handed the letter to the owl, which seemed to know instinctively what to do with it, accepting it softly in its beak.  Willow moved to get a closer look, but Harry turned and motioned for her to stay where she was.  Then he turned and walked to the window.

      "Uh, Harry, I sort of can't see from here," she said, still not moving from her spot.

      His grin only brightened.  "Sure you can," he said.  "Watch."  He turned and spoke directly to the owl.  "I want you to take this to my friend Willow Rosenberg," he said.

      The owl immediately fluttered its wings, flew about a yard out the window, then turned around and came back flying straight for Willow.  It landed at Willow's feet and dropped the envelope in front of her.

      Willow picked it up, and her eyes were wide.  The envelope was no longer blank.  It now read:

      _Willow Rosenberg_

_      Hogwarts Owlery_

      "Wait a minute … you didn't just write that on there, did you?"

      Harry's grin became absolutely triumphant.  "Nope," he said with a revealing laugh.  "The envelopes address themselves, and the owls always seem to find their way unless someone or something stops them, or someone is deliberately trying to hide.  When I was getting my invitations to come to Hogwarts six years ago, they not only knew where I lived, they knew what room of the house I was in, even though it changed every day.  They even found me when my uncle tried to hide me out on a small island off the coast."

      "So wait … I never needed to ask you for your address at all."

      Harry shook his head, still smiling.  "But I'm glad you did," he added.

      "So then why did you tell Buffy …?"

      "I didn't want her to be the one to have to tell you.  Besides, it really means something to me that you asked."

      Willow was flabbergasted.  "Well … thanks.  Or you're welcome.  Not sure what I'm supposed to say to that, actually."

      Harry laughed.  "Either works.  Come on, let's get out of the owlery, the owls don't like it if you hang around forever.  It's like loitering in someone else's office for no reason."

      "Oh," Willow said as she started for the door, apologizing to the nearest owls she passed on the way.  Harry laughed softly behind her.  They reached the door, which led into another set of stairs down to the lower floors.

      "So … since I have no idea how we got here … where are we?" she asked.

      "These stairs go all the way down to the Entrance Hall level," Harry explained, "though the doorway three flights down leads across an enclosed bridge and back to one of the sixth floor landings, if you want to go back to the dorms."

      "Big place," Willow commented.

      "You're not kidding," Harry said, as they started to descend the stairs.  "I've been here six years and I probably haven't seen half of it, and I've seen more than most.  And that's only counting the 'normal' space, too; there are secret passages and chambers everywhere, some that don't even exist fully in this world."

      "Is there anyone that knows it all?"

      Harry thought for a moment.  "Dumbledore probably does," he said.  "He seems to know everything, though there was a part of it that even he didn't know about that we found my second year.  Filch knows most of it, at least the non-magical parts, and Lupin knew a lot of it at one time, though he had a magic map to help him.  Ron's older brothers knew a lot, too."  His eyes went distant for a moment, then he added, "and Voldemort."  He rubbed his forehead gingerly, and Willow shuddered.  "And Sirius used to."  For some reason, his voice seemed laced with melancholy as he said the last name, but Willow didn't recognize it.

      "Who?"

      "My godfather," Harry said softly.  "Killed by a Death Eater a couple of months ago."

      Memories of Tara's murder suddenly flashed back into Willow's mind, the first time in a while she had thought of it, and of the darkness and pain that had taken her that moment.  For some reason, Harry flinched next to her, as though someone had pricked his forehead.

      "What's wrong?" she asked, turning to look at him, a concerned look on her face and the memory of Tara fleeing to the back of her mind.

      "Nothing," he said, and indeed his headache, or whatever it was, seemed to have passed.  Willow just chalked it up to a painful memory.

      "I lost someone very close to me recently, too," she told him, refusing to let the tear forming in the corner of her eye fall.  "My best friend in the whole world.  I know it hurts.  I was … not myself for a while afterward.  It still hurts to think about her."  She wasn't lying; just thinking about her like this made the edges of her vision blur and darken for a moment.  She realized the dark forces within herself that she had surrendered to once were still there and still strong, still enticing her with the promise of power and forgetfulness.  Harry flinched again, as though the scar on his forehead burned him while Willow was speaking.  "Are you sure you're all right?" she asked again.  "You look like you've got a headache.  I'm sorry for bringing up memories like that—I seem to be really bad about that."

      "No, it's fine," he said, though Willow could tell something was troubling him.  He didn't seem to want to talk about it, however, and his head didn't seem to bother him for the rest of the time that they walked.

      They walked in silence for another minute before they reached the great stairwell.  "Well, Slytherin Tower is that way," Harry said, pointing off to the right.

      "Thanks," Willow said, hesitating.  Then, a moment later.  "So I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow?"

      Harry nodded.  "My boat leaves at nine down at the lake, if you want to come say goodbye there.  It's hard to talk to anyone from another House at meals."

      Willow smiled.  "Sounds great," she said.

      "All right, see you then!" Harry said, turning away to the left, towards Gryffindor Tower, casting a warm smile over his shoulder at her for the first few steps.

      Willow waited until he was out of sight before taking and letting out several long, breathless breaths.  The butterflies in her stomach were the size of woodchucks, but she was beaming as she turned back towards Slytherin Tower.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **COMING SOON:**  Chapter 12, "A Bird's Eye View."  So what have Buffy and Draco been doing while our scarhead and redhead have been getting better acquainted?

      **SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_      "Tempting," Buffy answered.  "But I seem to remember someone promising to show me a thing or two about flying two days ago.  I was kinda hoping I could convince him to make good on it."_


	12. A Bird's Eye View

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

**      THANKS **to everyone who wished me good luck on the LSAT's; hope your charms were effective!  I'm going to start moving responses to specific reviews to the end of chapters, since they take up a lot of space at the beginning.

       *           *           *           *           *

      **CHAPTER 12:**

**      A BIRD'S EYE VIEW**

      Buffy remained in the Great Hall for a while after Willow left.  For one thing, she hadn't gotten much of a chance to eat, between getting to dinner late, Harry leaving early, and Buffy being forced to go after him.  Having skipped lunch, she was starving, and studying seemed to tire her a lot more than it did Willow.  In addition, with Willow gone, she was able to pay a bit more attention to the other people in the hall without ignoring her friend.

      She spotted Draco giving her a quizzical look.  She also noticed an empty seat next to him at the head of the table.  Having nothing else to do, and knowing nobody else in Slytherin she'd rather talk to with Willow gone, she decided to bite the bullet and not care whether or not she looked like she was playing politics.  She picked up her plate and moved down the table towards him.

      "Mind if I sit here?" she asked.

      He looked at her, surprised, but there was a smile on his face.  "Not at all," he said.  He even got up to hold her seat for her, bringing a smile to Buffy's lips.  Competitive, perhaps, but at least he was a gentleman.

      "Thanks," she said as she took the seat.

      "So what brings you down to chat with us mortals?" another Slytherin, a girl catty-corner across the table from Buffy asked.  There was some scattered, mirthless laughter at that.

      Draco shot the girl a disapproving glare.  "Now, now, Bulstrode," he said softly.  "Play nicely."

      "Not sure," Buffy admitted.  "Mostly just got kinda lonely down my way."

      "That's a good point," Draco said, noting Willow's absence.  "Where did your friend go?"  Buffy guessed he was just pretending to have just noticed she was gone; she doubted much slipped past Draco's silver eyes.

      Buffy shrugged.  "Not sure.  Maybe cooking up another surprise for Peeves."  Smiles and scattered laughter greeted that.

      "Not happy being called the Defenestratrix, eh?" Draco laughed.  "It could be worse."

      Buffy wrinkled her nose.  It was the first time she had heard anyone say that.  She wasn't sure it could get much worse.  It sounded like a really bad comic book villain.

      "You almost finished?" Buffy asked.

      "Well, dinner," Draco said, nodding at his plate, which had just a few stuffed mushrooms left on it, and his cup of pumpkin juice, which was nearly empty.  "I was sort of planning on staying for dessert.  If you haven't had the kiwi tarts with strawberry cream yet, they're truly not to be missed."

      "Tempting," Buffy answered.  "But I seem to remember someone promising to show me a thing or two about flying two days ago.  I was kinda hoping I could convince him to make good on it."

      Draco gave her a questioning look, as though trying to figure out if she were serious or not.  Eventually, his smile brightened, and he shrugged nonchalantly.  "Why not?" he said.  "They'll have kiwi tarts again.  Everyone," he said with a curt nod to the others to excuse himself.

      Draco and Buffy left the hall and began the climb to Slytherin Tower.  Buffy noticed that once they were out of the Great Hall, Draco's posture relaxed and he seemed to pay less attention to his features and voice than he did at the head of the table.

      "I honestly don't know what I'm going to be able to teach you," he said, once they were on the stairs and away from prying eyes, save for those of the pictures on the walls.  "From the look of things yesterday and this morning, you ought to be the one teaching, not learning."

      Buffy shrugged.  "Oh well.  We'll see.  If there's nothing to teach, we could always just fly around together.  Do you like being up in the air?"

      For the first time, she seemed to have said something that got completely past his emotional barrier.  A distant, misty look entered his eyes, and when he looked at her, it was the first time she had seen such an unguarded expression on his face.  "I do," he said.  "I have no idea how I look when I'm flying, but the way you looked earlier this morning, that's how I feel when I'm up in the air.  Unless I'm playing against Potter," he added as an afterthought, but the words didn't have their normal sting.  "And even then, it's the biggest adrenaline rush in the world, until the git nabs the snitch."

      Buffy laughed.  "You're talking about Quidditch, right?"

      Draco nodded.  "Best game there is, even on a bad day."

      "I was more thinking about just flying."

      "I know," he said.  "And I meant that, too, though I haven't flown for pleasure in a long time."

      "Then this should be good for you."

      The reached Slytherin tower, split up to get their brooms, and met again atop the roof.  Buffy grinned when she saw Draco holding his own Nimbus 2001.

      "I like your taste in brooms," she said.

      "Really?" he deadpanned.

      Buffy shot him a wink and took off.  Draco followed a moment later.  In a matter of minutes, they were high above the school, higher even than Buffy had gone that morning.  Draco was visibly impressed by Buffy's control of the broom—and complete lack of any nervousness from being so high in the air—on only her second day flying.

      "Is that the Quidditch pitch?" Buffy asked, pointing at the arena beside the school, far below.  It was barely the size of an egg from their height.

      "It is indeed," Draco affirmed.

      "Kinda guessed."

      "And … that's Potty and Weasel out there on it!" Draco spat, noting two tiny specks, smaller than fleas, darting around near one of the goal rings.

      "How can you tell?" Buffy asked, squinting.  Her eyes were much better than most and she couldn't make out any details at that distance.

      "I can't, I just know," Draco answered.  "There's no one else that would be out there by themselves at this hour in the summer, anyway."

      "Well, come on, leave them alone," Buffy called, before Draco got it into his head to do anything rash.  She didn't want him to do anything that might spoil the flight, and she was already feeling that same rush that she had gotten that morning.  Having Draco along certainly didn't hurt, she decided.

      Draco looked at her as though she had read his mind.  It looked as though several different answers fought on the tip of his tongue, before he finally gave up and gave her his most innocent smile.  "My intentions are completely innocent," he said loftily.

      Buffy gave him a wicked grin.  "What a shame," she said, suddenly breaking off at an angle and veering away from him.  She had time to see a shocked expression begin to spread across his face just before she had to turn away.  He recovered quickly, however, and was on her tail a moment later.  Buffy hid another grin.  This was the best fun she'd had flying yet.

      They swooped around the castle grounds; Buffy led them as far away from the castle as possible, though she had been this far away that morning and people had still recognized her.  It was just the principle of the thing, however; she didn't want to be rubbing anything in anyone's face or acting like she was conspicuously showing off.  Eventually, she stopped, gazing downward and realizing that if she went any farther, she'd be over the Dark Forest.  She wasn't sure if going over the forest was as off-limits as going into it, but she wasn't about to find out.  The grounds were big enough, anyway.

      Draco pulled alongside her.  "Tired already?" he asked.

      Buffy gave him a look of mock-disapproval.  "You wish," she said.  "But I have a feeling we shouldn't be going any farther."  She pointed downward.  "Just in case there are any eyes on us at the castle," she added, in case he got it into his head to try showing off by flying out over the forest.

      Draco looked down and realized what she was saying.  "I see," he said.  "I've never really paid much attention, and I've never gotten in trouble, so I doubt anything would come of it … but you're right, there's probably a lot more risk of someone watching the two of us than just one.  Especially because you're so new."

      Buffy nodded.  "So why don't you show me around?"

      "Excuse me?"

      "Tell me what I'm seeing.  Give me a bird's-eye tour of the castle."

      Draco weighed the idea over in his mind, then nodded.  "Fair enough," he said.  "If you can deal with the sarcastic editorial comments."

      "I'll manage," Buffy laughed.

      Draco grinned.  "Well, you obviously know about the forest.  That large hut right there at the edge is that great oaf Hagrid's.  He's the gamekeeper, and he's got some fancy title of Keeper of Keys and Grounds or some such nonsense—"

      "I know who he is," Buffy said.

      "Right.  Well, he was the Care of Magical Creatures teacher until last year, but I think he's retired now.  Doesn't seem to understand how dangerous some fairly large magical animals can be.  Probably because they aren't, to him.  He's allowed in the Dark Forest whenever he wants, and nothing ever seems to bother him.  Weasley swears he's friends with a spider the size of a lorry in there; I'd be suspicious, coming from a Weasley, but Hagrid has a way with big animals."

      "I see."  Buffy didn't feel like getting in a conversation about Hagrid or the Weasleys.  "What's that?" she asked, pointing at an enormous tree in the middle of one of Hogwarts' lower courtyards.

      "That's the Whomping Willow.  Emphasis on the Whomping."

      They circled further around the school.  Draco pointed out the lake, which was fairly obvious, as well as the boathouses on both sides, and the train station on the far side as well.  Those were fairly obvious as well, but Buffy also noticed that the tracks ran past the station in both directions.

      "Where does the train go to from here?  Past Hogwarts, I mean?" she asked.

      "You really want to see?" he asked.

      "Well, sort of, but I'd be happy if you just told me."

      "I'd rather just show you," he said.  "If you've got the guts to come this high."  He suddenly angled his broom steeply skyward, and began climbing even higher.

      Buffy followed him a moment later.  She was wearing her robes, and the evening was warmer than the early morning when she had last been flying, so the cold of the upper air didn't faze her this time.  Nonetheless, the breeze was even stiffer this high in the air, and her hair whipped out of its ponytail and streamed outward in the breeze.  They were almost to the cloud ceiling when Draco stopped and hovered.  Buffy caught up a moment later.

      "Shame the clouds are here," he said.  "The view's even better a couple thousand feet further up, but this isn't half bad."

      As if in partial answer, the clouds far to their west parted, letting the sun shine through, just beginning to turn the faintest shade of pink as sunset approached.  The land to either side of them seemed to stretch on forever in all directions, a checkerboard of green and maize broken by the occasional meandering blue ribbon of a river or black line of a highway.  She thought she could just make out the far western coast of England on the western horizon.

      "Wow," she breathed.

      "I've never been up here on a broom, either," Draco admitted.

      Buffy looked at him.  "Then how did you know what the view was?"

      Draco shrugged uncomfortably.  "My father had a flying carriage.  We used to come here to watch the Quidditch matches when I was younger.  We saw just about every Slytherin game from the time I was five until I started at Hogwarts.  The games were great … that was during the six-year span the Baron was telling you about when Slytherin was winning at everything … but the approach into Hogwarts was worth the trip in itself, though."

      "I can imagine," Buffy said, slowly turning her broom sideways in midair to get a complete view of the landscape in all directions.

      "And there's your answer," Draco added.

      "My answer?"

      "To where the train goes, past Hogwarts.  See that little village there?  You can't see it from Hogwarts because of the hills, but it isn't that far off from the school."

      Buffy was just able to make out the train tracks, and followed them to where Draco was pointing.  "Oh, yes, I see it."

      "That's Hogsmeade," he said.  "The only all-wizarding village in England.  Great place.  Students in third year and up generally get to go once a month, unless they're in trouble or hurt or something."

      "During the summers, too?"

      "Sure," Draco said, "next one's the second-last weekend in June.  Two weeks from Saturday."

      "What's so special about it?"

      "Lots of shops, restaurants, places to hang out, that kind of thing—sightseeing for all the younger Mudbloods, too, since there's no place like it in the Muggle world."

      Buffy let that pass.  "Something to look forward to, anyway."

      Draco nodded.  "It is indeed.  Anyway, want me to show you the rest of the castle?"

      Buffy turned her broom earthward in answer, spiraling down slowly to get used to the higher pressure and temperature lower down.  Draco spiraled alongside.  "How high up were we?" she asked as they began to get back down to where they had been flying before.

      "Not sure.  Five, six thousand feet maybe?"

      Buffy let out a low whistle.

      "The castle's at least a thousand feet above the lake, and we were a long way above the castle," Draco added.  Buffy nodded.  He wasn't kidding.

      "All right, where were we … guess we're going to start circling inside.  In there in that courtyard is Professor Sprout's gardens and greenhouses.  She's head of Hufflepuff.  Never liked Herbology, or Sprout, really, but she's great for Hogwarts—grows probably a couple thousand galleons' worth of rare herbs every year, and all the money goes to the school."

      "Nice of her," Buffy said.

      "Not likely," Draco grinned.  "Hufflepuffs aren't Gryffindors. Sprout wouldn't do all that for just pride and honor.  The stuff grown at the school has to go to the school because students help grow it, but the stuff Sprout grows on her own at home sells for a fortune because of her rep as Hogwarts' Herbology professor and head of Hufflepuff.  Snape complains about her all the time because she won't give him a discount selling ingredients for potions, but he pays up anyway—her stuff's the best."

      "You think Snape would give a discount in her position?"

      Draco's grin was predatory.  "Not a chance."

      They circled around the castle some more.  "There's Gryffindor Tower," Draco pointed out.  "And Slytherin.  The bulges down lower on the wall right beneath them are the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw dorms."

      They were coming around to the Quidditch pitch again.  "Looks like Harry and Ron have quit," Buffy noted, seeing the hoops unoccupied.  A moment later, she noticed Ron flying away on his broomstick.  They were close enough to recognize people again.

      "Calling it in early, it looks like," Draco said, his voice emotionless.  "They can't be tired.  Wonder where Potty is?"

      "Try to behave," Buffy said.

      "I am," he answered.  Buffy rolled her eyes.

      "Oh well, moving on," Draco continued.  "That's the astronomy tower, the highest point in the castle.  Great place to hang out during the day, too, because it's got the best view, except for flying, and it's only needed for classes after dark."

      "Cool."

      "Through those big windows there is Dumbledore's office.  Or at least, I think so.  I've heard the stairs to his office can move around, even though they do have a standard place where they usually are.  The windows always seem to be in the same place, though.  I don't think I'll ever figure that one out."

      "Don't look at me for help," Buffy said with a laugh.  It did sound like something she imagined Dumbledore's office doing, however.

      "All right, those two lower towers are the old Divination Tower—not sure if we're going to use it now that the teacher's a centaur—and  the one on the far side of the keep's the Owlery.  And … hey!"

      Buffy looked, and her breath caught.  There was a broom flying towards the Owlery, from the direction of the Quidditch pitch.  Draco and Buffy had just flown out from behind the keep, so unless anyone on the broom turned around, they would have no idea that the two of them were in the area.  There were clearly two people on the broom, and Buffy recognized Harry's flying style and the crop of red hair streaming out behind the passenger seated behind him.  She bit her lip.  If she had somehow ended up riding on a broom with him, things had to have gone better than Buffy had even hoped for her friend.

      "That's Potty," Draco mouthed.  "And is that Weasley's little sister?  Doesn't look right … that hair … _NO …_"

      He turned an incredulous look in Buffy's direction, and another one back towards the pair, that had nearly reached the Owlery roof.  With a snarl, he spun away at breakneck speed, back behind the keep where neither Harry nor Willow could see them when they landed.  Buffy cursed, then followed a moment later.

      As soon as Draco was out of view, he darted low and around the side of the castle, then banked steeply upwards and swooped down onto the roof of Slytherin Tower.  Buffy was right behind him.

      Draco was poised by the stairs leading down off the roof, but made no move to descend them.  He also deliberately avoided looking at Buffy, staring off into the sunset.

      "Tell me truly," he said slowly, with forced patience.  "That I did not just see what I think I just saw."

      "And what is it you think you just saw?" Buffy asked, her own forced patience the mirror image of his.  She couldn't believe he was reacting this way.

      "Your friend, a Slytherin that I invited to sit at the head of our table, riding on the back of Harry Potter's broom."

      "Well, I'd tell you you didn't see that, but I'd be lying, and unlike most Slytherins, apparently, that's not my style."

      He stiffened, but he did not turn around, so it was impossible to read the expression on his face.

      "Then tell me truly," he continued, "what is going on between the two of them."

      "I haven't a clue, but I haven't got a problem with it, whatever it is.  In fact, at the risk of sounding conceited, I helped it along."

      "Why?"

      "Because she likes him, and he's a nice boy, and she's six thousand miles from home and needs something like this—and I don't know him very well, but I think they'd be really good for each other, and I don't think you know him any better than I do.  I don't care how long you've known him.  It doesn't sound like you've ever given him half a chance."

      "It's bloody Saint Potter!"

      "You know, I'm not the smartest girl in the world, but I think I know his name.  Though I just call him Harry."

      "I can't believe this," he said, turning and starting down the stairs.

      "Draco!" Buffy snapped, her voice so suddenly cold and powerful that she surprised even herself.  Draco stopped on the top step, and Buffy strode over to him, staring into his glittering silver eyes as though she could melt them with her own.  They didn't budge, but for the first time since they had landed, he was looking into her eyes, and she could feel the fire behind her eyes.  He might not like what she was saying, but she was absolutely sure that he was listening.

      "I said you didn't know him very well.  You've never given him a chance, and there's more to him than you've been letting yourself see.  Don't look at me like that, I know you don't want to hear this, but you're going to!  Now listen.  _I'd have told him the same thing about you._  It doesn't sound like he's given you much better.  That flight was truly fantastic, and when you aren't with your other Slytherin friends—if you call them that—or talking about 'Smarmy Saint Harry Potter, the Bloody Wanking Great Gryffindor Git,' you're a lot of fun to be around.  It sounds like you're pretty good out there on the Quidditch pitch and aren't half bad in school, either.  When you aren't talking about Harry, you've got better manners than anyone I went to high school with.  I still want to be friends with you, honestly, even though you're acting like a complete _prat_ at the moment.

      "And let me remind you of a thing or two about Slytherins, in case you've forgotten.  We're competitive, we're ambitious, and we do what we have to to get what we want.  And right now, I think my friend wants to have Harry Potter as a friend.  Quite possibly something more.  I don't know, and I don't care.  It doesn't matter.  Which means _I_ want her to have him, too.  You take some quality time to think about that, before you decide how out of proportion you want to blow this."

      She was about to push past him and down the stairs ahead of him, but she quickly stopped herself.  She wasn't going to indignify herself that way.  She stepped backwards and sprang into the air.  The supernatural force in her legs, still singing from the recent flight and fueled by her anger, catapulted her above the level of Draco's head.

      She was completely upside down when she got her broom between her legs and flew off, all in one fluid motion, out over the side of the tower, where she curved downward in a half-circle so she was right-side-up as she flew in her dorm room window.  Draco was left, half lost in thought and half completely stunned, on the staircase.  He did not move for a long time afterward.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **A/N:**  Ah, things never go as smoothly as we'd like, do they?  My beta-reader (who's seen the next few chapters) says I take after _Lisette_ (who's current dark masterpiece WIP "Equinoxium" is a BtVS/LotR crossover well worth the time to any fans of both universes), so I don't tend toward the warm and fuzzy so much.  :-D  For those of you looking for something more in the Lifetime-channel vein, if you haven't discovered _DragonKatGal_ and her review-magnet "What You Did," I strongly recommend it (and also recommend badgering her about writing a sequel! :-P).

      _Eidolon Griffin,_ looks like you might have spoken too soon about Draco being semi-nice.  Though I guess he still sort of is.

      _DragonStar, ShadowElfBard:_ Hold those thoughts … ;-)

      _Laura W,_ I'm not sure why you'd get that message, honestly, unless you are checking only minutes after I upload; FFN sends out AuthorAlerts immediately but it sometimes takes longer for the text of the chapter to get fully "settled" in their system.

      **COMING SOON:**  Chapter 13, "Parting."  Buffy and Willow catch up on their days; Harry has a little conversation with Dumbledore; a sad but fond farewell at the lakeshore.

      **SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_      "We had a perfectly polite discussion.  Which is to say, I told him to shut up, told him what he needed to hear, and left."_

_      "Ooh.  How'd he take it?"_

_      "Not sure yet.  We'll know if I wake up tomorrow turned into a frog."_

_      "Ouch."_


	13. Parting

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!  (Responses to reviews at end of chapter.)

            *           *           *           *           *

      **CHAPTER 13:**

**      PARTING**

      Willow could tell that something was wrong the moment she walked into their dorm room.  Buffy was there.  She wasn't smiling.

      She was studying.

      "Whoa, what's the special occasion?" she asked.

      Buffy looked up, and quickly shut the book she was reading.  The sullen expression faded from her face, and she grinned lightly.  Too lightly, Willow would have said.  "Well, you certainly have a little extra bounce in your step," she commented.  "Things went well, I take it?"

      "I think so.  I mean, we hit it off really well, and I'm going to say goodbye to him down by the lake tomorrow morning after breakfast, and I learned to send owl-mail."

      Buffy smiled, and though it looked genuine, it also looked somewhat weak.  "That's awesome, Will."  The smile faded.  "And he convinced you to get on the back of his broom, too, I saw."

      Willow stiffened.  Buffy had been watching?  How much had she been watching?  "You … saw?" she asked carefully.

      Buffy sighed, and tossed the book aside.  "Draco and I went out for a flight.  He showed me around the grounds, and we went up higher than I'd ever gone—than he'd ever gone, either—and everything was going great, then we came back down just as you and Harry were flying to the Owlery.  Just for a moment.  I'd have just let it pass if he hadn't seen, too.  He completely flew off the handle."

      The knot that had vanished from Willow stomach for a while returned.  "Am I in trouble?"

      "Not with me, you're not.  He is," Buffy stated flatly.

      "Still, I'm sorry.  It sounds like you were having a great evening up 'til then."

      "I was.  Draco is so nice until he gets started on Harry.  Things generally go downhill from there."

      "So you had a fight?"

      "We had a perfectly polite discussion.  Which is to say, I told him to shut up, told him what he needed to hear, and left."

      "Ooh.  How'd he take it?"

      "Not sure yet.  We'll know if I wake up tomorrow turned into a frog."

      "Ouch."

      Buffy shrugged uncomfortably, but smiled.  "I think I'll survive.  But not if you don't fill me in on all the fun details of the you two I just stood up for."

      Willow grinned, but didn't blush.  "Not much happened.  I met him out by the quidditch pitch, and we went to the Owlery and he showed me how to send owls.  Oh yeah, did you know that the envelopes address themselves?  I mean, without you even needing to know the other person's address?  He sent me this just across the room."  She handed Buffy the envelope that Harry had sent her.

      "You didn't even open it?"

      "I … well, I guess not.  I was just surprised to see the envelope addressing itself."

      For a split-second, Buffy appeared to simply take that in stride, but then the significance hit her.  "Wait, so when he told me …?"

      Willow nodded.  "He just wanted me to come talk to him."

      "I don't know if I should be offended or say 'good for him.'"

      "I think I was a little of both, but leaning towards the good side."

      "Yes, but you're not entirely objective here."

      "No I'm not," Willow admitted with a grin.

      "Good for you," Buffy answered lightly.  "So then what?"

      Willow squirmed uncomfortably.  "Well, we walked back down from the Owlery and across the bridge to the great stairwell, then he told me I could come say goodbye at the lake tomorrow, then we split up."

      "Not bad."

      "Except I think I hurt him," Willow added.  _No secrets, remember?_ she thought to herself, though the temptation to keep it to herself was overwhelming.  She trusted Buffy not to tell anyone, though, and keeping it to herself was making her just as uncomfortable as saying it.

      "Huh?"

      "We talked, you know, as we walked.  We started talking about some serious stuff—apparently his godfather who he was really close to was killed recently, by a Death Eater.  I started to tell him about Tara, but then his head started hurting, and then a moment later, too.  It was almost like … well like he could actually feel the pain when I was just thinking about her."

      "Well, not to be all optimistic, but maybe it was just thinking about his godfather?"

      "Maybe, but for some reason it didn't look like that.  It was too sudden, like one minute it was hurting, and the next minute, it wasn't.  Also it looked more like someone was stabbing him than a headache."  She knew how it felt to think about the recent murder of someone so close, and it hurt, but it didn't look like that.

      "Ouch.  Talk about a heavy conversation.  Did you ask him about it?"

      "Sort of, but he didn't want to talk about it."

      "Well, give him some time."

      "Well, after tomorrow, I'm sort of going to have to."

      "You'll have owls."

      "Not really the same thing."

      "True."

      Willow searched for a change of subject, and found one springing to her mind fairly quickly.  "By the way, about you and Draco …"

      "Will, it's OK, he's just going to have sort out his issues."

      "No, I was just going to say that it doesn't look like he's told anyone, at least not yet."

      "What makes you say that?"

      "Well, I just kind of think people would be looking at me funny … or cursing me … back when I passed through the common room.  Nothing looked unusual."

      "They're Slytherins," Buffy reminded her.  "Hiding what they're thinking seems to be something they do."

      "True, but not all of them are that good at it," Willow countered.  "Heck, Draco's probably the most controlled of the group, and he lost it, so I can only imagine how some of the less … disciplined … kids would react."  Indeed, she remembered, most of the people in the Common Room had barely given her a passing look as she passed through, and it had been pretty obvious that they were thinking about her Defenestrator curse, not anything more serious.

      "Well, I hope so," Buffy said.  "Though it was less than an hour ago, so it's way too early to say."

      "Well, if you want to give it until tomorrow," Willow offered, "there's still a while before lights-out … feel like another study session?"  She was more than up for it herself; studying had always helped clear her mind, and she needed that now, but she knew Buffy didn't always feel the same way.

      "Sure."  Buffy let out an exasperated breath.  "Come on.  Let's work on some of those dueling Charms.  I feel like shooting things."

      Willow grinned lightly, but she found herself wondering, in the suspicious, Slytherin-like corner of mind, if it wouldn't be a bad idea to learn a few more of those herself.  She wasn't going to worry Buffy with it any more tonight, but she found herself wondering what Malfoy might do after Harry left.  "You're on," she said with a feral grin as she reached for her stack of textbooks.

            *           *           *           *           *

      Harry was up late.  He had a lot on his mind.

      It was actually the first time he had used his new prefect's privilege of being out past curfew.  He had only been one for a few weeks, and still didn't really think of himself as one.  The teachers were being tolerant.  It was summer, and they knew he was only here for a few days, and what he'd been through and was going through, but he knew that wouldn't last forever.  The job wasn't anything he couldn't do, keeping the House in order and so on, and he knew people already looked up to him as a leader of the House, but it did take time.  He felt guilty making excuses like that, though.  Ron and Hermione were increasingly busy as well, yet they found time for it, and Harry's appointment had been as much Dumbledore's way of taking some pressure off of them as by way of belated apology to Harry.

      He was not up late thinking about his responsibilities to Gryffindor, however.  He wasn't thinking about any Gryffindor at all.

      He approached the gargoyle statue that concealed the stairs to Dumbledore's office.  He wasn't sure if Dumbledore wanted to see him or not, or had time to, but he knew the old man would find a way to say so, one way or the other.

      There was a note lying on the statue.  Harry looked over and read it.

      _It is not our abilities that show what we truly are …,_ it read.

      Harry looked up with a smile.  Dumbledore had admitted to Harry that he was human and made mistakes, but it was good to be reminded that he was still Dumbledore.  Trust the old man to know everything going on at his school.

      "It is our choices," Harry finished aloud.

      The statue swung around and out of the way, revealing the staircase to the headmaster's office, and Harry climbed up.

      The headmaster was seated at his desk, reading over a stack of old, handwritten sheets of parchment that looked very much like an entire course's worth of meticulous school notes.

      "Good evening, professor," Harry said as he entered.

      Dumbledore looked up with a kindly smile.  "It is indeed," he said.  "Though a much better evening for you, than for me, if I do say so.  Making new friends always makes for a better evening than reviewing one's old Alchemy research."

      Harry actually felt a spot of color rise in his cheeks, but pushed it aside.  "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that, professor," he continued.

      "Yes?"

      "About Willow."

      "I see," Dumbledore said softly.  "Well, you know, I cannot give out truly personal information about other students.  You might try asking her yourself, though."

      "It sort of involves me, too," Harry explained.  "Sometimes, when I'm with her, or when we look at each other, my scar hurts.  Like it did when Voldemort was really worked up—not really that bad, but the same kind of thing."

      Dumbledore was silent for a moment as he processed this.

      "How much has Miss Rosenberg already told you about herself?" he asked.

      Harry's mind worked.  "She just arrived from America, and said she lost someone very close to her over there recently.  About the same time as Sirius died, actually," he added, just making that connection.

      "She did," Dumbledore confirmed.

      Harry's mind raced further.  "She came here only weeks after her friend died.  I'm suddenly thinking that isn't a coincidence." 

      Dumbledore smiled.  "It doesn't sound like you need my help."

      Harry concentrated harder on the conversation they had had on the way back from the Owlery.  _I lost someone … my best friend in the whole world … not myself for a while afterward.  It still hurts to think about her._  That had been the moment Harry's scar had begun hurting.

      "She said she was not herself for a while afterward," Harry continued.

      "Is that so surprising?" Dumbledore asked.  "Or have you forgotten your own battle with Bellatrix Lestrange?"

      Harry certainly had not.  _I used an Unforgivable Curse,_ he thought bitterly to himself.  Even though he thought Bellatrix deserved much more than the few seconds of the Cruciatus Curse he had been able to manage, he would take that back if he could.  Grief and anger had blinded him.

      "I suppose not," Harry admitted.  "But why bring her here?  And why does my scar hurt when she thinks about it?  Does she have any connection to … to Voldemort?"

      Dumbledore's smile was benevolent, but serious.  "Don't you?" he asked.

      Harry winced.  He never liked thinking about that.  He used a wand with a core the twin of Voldemort's own, was marked by Voldemort, even had a share of Voldemort's own powers within him.  Not to mention the two sometimes shared thoughts, which was never pleasant.

      "Still," Harry pressed, "you know what I mean."

      Dumbledore stood, and looked thoughtfully out the window.  "Willow Rosenberg is still a mystery to me, too, Harry," he admitted.  He turned a kindly smile on Harry.  "And, if my instincts are not completely amiss, I may not be the one in this room with the best chance of solving it."

      Harry's eyes widened.  Whatever he had been expecting to hear, a yes, a no, a complete runaround, that was not it.

      "But I will say this," Dumbledore.  "I have the assurance of a Gryffindor alumni, who knew Willow for years before she came here and who has my complete confidence, that Willow had never so much as heard the name Voldemort until a few weeks ago."

      That was good enough for Harry, and he thanked Dumbledore and made his way to the exit.  He was halfway back to Gryffindor Tower before he remembered that he had shared a connection with Voldemort long before he had ever heard the Dark Lord's name, too.

            *           *           *           *           *

      Willow stirred groggily.

      "Morning, sunshine," Buffy's voice called from nearby.

      "Mm, hey," Willow yawned.  "Have a nice morning flight?"

      "What does it look like?"

      Willow opened her eyes.  Buffy was still in her nightdress.  "Oh," she said simply.  "Burned out on your second day?"

      "Totally," Buffy admitted, "but not from studying."

      "I hear that," Willow concurred.  "Feels like we've been here a month already."

      "I know.  All right, I'm going to hit the shower.  Breakfast is in twenty.  I'm going to need some serious comfort food.  My thighs will forgive one bad day."

      "What?  Oh, go for it," Willow said with a shrug.  Buffy was already heading for the girls' bathroom in the corridor, casting an odd look at Willow, as though wondering what she had said that had been so surprising.

      As soon as Buffy was gone, Willow pulled out her wand.  She took a deep breath, and focused on how she wanted to appear that morning.  She had been surprised when Buffy had told her breakfast was in twenty.  She had wanted to give herself more time than that to get ready; she didn't think she was particularly vain, but she wanted to look good when she said goodbye to Harry.  However, what Flitwick had done couldn't be as easy as it looked, or almost every girl in Hogwarts would be doing it every morning.

      _"Hygienis femina,_" she chanted.

      She let out a surprised breath as she released the spell and it rippled through her, but it wasn't as bad as she'd thought it could be.  A moment later, she cast a glance at herself in the mirror on the wall.  She smiled.  It was harder working with her sixteen-year-old body, but she didn't think she'd done a bad job, particularly with her hair; she had removed a lot of the brown, leaving something close to the purer red that she had adopted after graduation.  She had also recovered the slightly wavier style in which she had usually worn it since then.

      She realized she was still in her nightdress as well.  She flicked her wand at her robes.  _"Apparellate,_" she intoned.  For some reason, that one was much easier.  She considered getting dressed the old-fashioned way, but realized that she would have had trouble doing that and leaving her hair intact.

      Buffy returned a few minutes later.  "You're up, Will," she said as she hurried through the door, doing her best to dry her hair as she went for her brush.  Then she caught sight of Willow's reflection in the mirror.  Willow grinned sheepishly as Buffy turned around.

      For a moment, it looked as though Buffy were going to say something about her using too much magic.  A moment later, however, she grinned and shook her head resignedly.  "Cheater," she said.

      Willow laughed.  "Here, let me give you a hand," she said, getting up and walking over to Buffy.

      "Uh, that's all right, I can get it."

      Willow smiled at the anxiety in her friend's voice.  She picked up Buffy's hair brush.  "I meant the old-fashioned way," she said.

      "Oh," Buffy said.  Her smile returned a moment later.  "That's OK, then."  She took a seat, and Willow gently smoothed out her friend's hair, leaving Buffy free to work on her makeup.  Buffy smiled contentedly, and Willow smiled in understanding.  She and Tara had always enjoyed grooming each other, but Willow had missed out on it the last time she had been this age.

      "Better than comfort food?" Willow asked.

      "No reason I can't have both," Buffy answered regally.  Willow smiled to herself.  That was the first time she had seen Buffy able to think about what had happened the previous night without openly feeling down about it.  Willow was glad about that, both because she hated seeing her friend down and because smiling and relaxing now couldn't hurt at breakfast, when she knew that both she and Buffy were going to have to sit at the same table as Draco, at the very least.

      They left for breakfast a few minutes later.

      Draco was already seated at the head of the Slytherin table when they entered the Great Hall, though if he was looking at them, they neither knew nor cared.  They didn't spare him so much as a glance as they made their way to their seats.  Willow looked across the room for Harry, and spotted him seated with the usual group of friends he sat with, though they were in a different place and arranged differently.  The Gryffindors seemed to believe in assigned seats a lot less than the Slytherins did.

      Breakfast was surprisingly uneventful, which Willow considered a very good thing, all things considered.  Neither the Slytherins nor the Gryffindors gave her any of the looks that she had been afraid she'd be seeing.  A few of the younger Slytherins even gave her compliments on her hair.

      "Hungry?" she asked her friend, seeing Buffy piling her plate high with blueberry pancakes, juicy rashers of bacon, and scrambled eggs.

      "Can you pass me the maple syrup?" Buffy asked in answer.  

      Willow smiled and reached across the table for the small tin pitcher.  As she did, she caught sight of Harry through a gap in the crowd between them, and realized that he was catching his first sight of her that day.  His eyes widened appreciatively, and a tingling feeling spread up Willow's spine.

      Harry got up to leave at around eight-thirty; Willow moved to follow him, but Buffy put a hand on her arm and shook her head quietly.  Willow took her seat again.

      "What's up?"

      "He's going to have to go get his things from his room," Buffy reminded her.  "It's only five minutes down to the boathouse, and he doesn't leave 'til nine."

      Willow nodded.  The unspoken message was there, too: _Don't be too obvious about following him.  Malfoy's watching._

      She swallowed and forced her stomach back under control.  She forced herself to make small talk for another few minutes, then excused herself.  Buffy came with her this time, effortlessly plucking a small strawberry muffin from a dish at the table as she left.  Willow shook her head.  Buffy always made everything look so natural.  Willow couldn't help feeling that what she was doing was writ large on her face as she walked towards the back of the room.  Of course, she reflected, Buffy probably wasn't dealing with the same tension in her stomach.

      Once clear of the Great Hall, they made their way quickly down to the boathouse.  Hermione and Ginny were on the pier, and Hagrid was there as well, sitting in the boat that would take Harry back across the lake.  Ginny gave Willow and unreadable look, but Hermione, at least, was smiling.

      "Come to say goodbye?" Hermione asked.

      "Looks that way," Willow answered.

      "You realize it's still going to take me a while to get used to that."

      "What?"

      "Well, you know, you being Harry's friend."

      "Oh, because we're …"

      "Well, yeah.  I've seen a lot in the last five years, but I've never seen him talk about a Slytherin as a friend."

      Willow saw Buffy give her an approving smile out of the corner of her eye, but there was more than that in what Hermione had said.  "So … did he talk about me at all?"

      "Mm, he said a few things," Hermione said, with a maddeningly secret smile.  Buffy laughed, and Willow rolled her eyes and shook her head.

      "Oh, you are cruel."

      Hermione's smile didn't waver.  "You could always ask him yourself.  There he comes."

      Willow turned around to see Harry descending the stairs; he and Ron were carrying a large trunk between them.  Harry flashed her a smile as soon as he saw her, just as he and Ron reached the foot of the stairs.

      "Be right back," he said quickly as they passed.  They went up to the boat, loaded the trunk into it, said a few words to Hagrid, and came back.

      "All set?" Hermione asked.

      "As set as I'm going to be," Harry answered wistfully.

      "Don't worry, we'll send you mail as often as we can," Ginny promised.

      Harry laughed.  "I'll be happy to get them, but I think I'll worry anyway."

      "If that makes you feel better," Buffy chided.

      "Sort of not entirely my choice."

      "Don't worry, you'll be back before you know it," Willow said.

      "I certainly hope so."

      "All right, Will, I'm going to jet," Buffy said.  She turned to Harry.  "Shame you've gotta take off so soon.  Take care of yourself this summer," she said, extending a hand to him.  "We're going to want you back here in the fall."

      Harry laughed and shook her hand.  "Now I _know_ I've never heard that from a Slytherin before."  Buffy gave a friendly shrug before heading back up the wharf.

      "Yeah, take care of yourself," Ron said, stepping up to shake Harry's hand next.

      "And don't forget to spend some time studying without me standing over your shoulder," Hermione added, though her tone was mild.  "McGonagall's serious about turning you into an Auror."

      "I will," Harry promised.  "And _you_ promise to have some fun and not spend _all_ your time studying.  There's more to life than books."  For some reason, Willow thought she caught Harry's eyes shift towards Ron as he said that, just for an instant.

      "Is there?" Hermione said loftily.  Harry laughed.  Ron wore a wry grin.  "All right," Hermione continued.  "I've got to go meet with McGonagall."  She backed away and turned down the wharf.  Ron followed after her.  Willow was surprised by that; she would have those two would have been the last ones to say goodbye to him.

      Ginny hesitated.  "You will come visit the Burrow, won't you?" she asked.

      "As often as I can," Harry promised, giving the shorter redhead a brotherly hug.  "And tell your mom and dad I said hello.  And keep practicing on that broom.  There are chaser spots open, even if I'm back at seeker."

      She pulled away and stuck her tongue out at him.  "_You_ keep practicing on that overpriced broom of yours," she said.  "Just in case Slytherin has any wicked new talent this year."  She gave a pointed glance back in the direction of the stairs up to the castle, in the direction Buffy and the others had gone.  She hesitated another moment, and for a moment, it looked like she intended to stay; then, with a brief, "See ya," she headed back down the wharf after the others.

      Harry and Willow were left alone on the pier.

      "Wish you didn't have to go," Willow said simply.  She had never been comfortable in situations like this.

      "That's two of us," Harry said earnestly.  "Unfortunately, it's really important, or I'd never leave this place.  I still think of Hogwarts as my real home."

      "Oh well.  You've at least given me something to look forward to in the fall," she said sadly.  She could feel the corner of her mouth trembling, and she didn't have the willpower to stop it at the moment.  "Slytherin isn't much good for company.  I'm really going to miss you."

      Suddenly, Harry reached out and took her hand.  He looked directly into her eyes.  "You've given me something else to look forward to, too.  And I'll miss you, too."  Willow's breath caught.  There was something about the touch of his hand and the look in his eyes that reached out to her.  She completely lost any train of thought that might have resulted in something to say; a slow warmth crept across her face and through her belly.

      "Harry, lad, time to go!" Hagrid called.

      Harry let go of her hand, a regretful expression playing across his face, and headed up the pier.  It finally sunk in for Willow that he was leaving.  Harry's eyes narrowed momentarily, but the look was gone a moment later.  "Don't forget to owl!" he called as he stepped in the boat.

      "I won't!" she called after him.

      Harry stepped in the boat, and Hagrid started the boat back across the lake.  Willow watched them go.  Harry cast one last look over his shoulder a minute or so after they started out.  Willow waved, and he waved back, then settled himself down in the boat and did not look back again.

      Willow stood on the pier for a few more minutes before she remembered that she still had not opened the letter he had sent to her the previous evening at the Owlery.  With a melancholy sigh, she sat down on one of the posts supporting the pier, pulled it from within her robes, looked at it for another couple of minutes, then finally slid it open.

      A smile broke out across her face as she read it, and she cast one more glance out over the lake at the black speck on the surface of the water in the distance.  She was still smiling contentedly as she folded it up again, slipped it back into her robes, and drifted back down the wharf towards the school.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **THANKS AGAIN** to everyone who reviewed the last chapter; your comments are a huge help when I sit down to write future chapters.

      _Red2:_ now, now, that would be telling!  On the other hand, it would probably leave a lot of unanswered questions and loose ends if they didn't.

      _BashfulC:_ thanks for the compliment; you put me in good company.

      _DiscordantDragon, unknown reviewer:_ thanks for the kudos on the flight scenes, I've always been really proud of those and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy that other people notice, too.

      _Jedi Buttercup:_ well, I'd probably bet on Hermione against Draco in a pitched duel.

      _ShadowElfBard, musicgirl141, DiscordantDragon:_ Thanks for the kudos on Buffy's little tirade; I was worried I might have had her laying it on a little thick there.  (I'm sure some others probably thought so.)  Lots of times people really don't say _everything _they're thinking like that.

      **COMING SOON:**  Chapter 14, "Another Parting."  Another Hogwarts student has to head home for a little while.

      **SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_      "Hey Draco," she said, trying to sound as friendly as possible.  "Didn't see you at breakfast.  Kind of a shock seeing Millicent in your chair."_

_      A wry grin split his features.  "Well, it's sturdy.  I think it can support her for a few weeks."_


	14. Another Parting

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!  (Notes to previous reviewers at end!)

            *           *           *           *           *

      **CHAPTER 14:**

**      ANOTHER PARTING**

      The younger students started their introductory classes the day after Harry left.  There were enough first- and second-year students to make regular classes possible.  Only a handful of older students at each year had stayed, each working on their own projects, so Buffy and Willow's independent studying didn't particularly stand out.  However, once she began to see the pace at which most of the younger students were learning, she began to see that Hermione and Willow had not simply told her she was doing well to keep her spirits up.  By Friday night, with Willow pushing her, she had covered nearly enough material for an entire quarter.  Back at Sunnydale, her teachers would have dropped dead of surprise had she shown such progress, but for some reason, she felt no smarter than she did there—probably because, just as she always had, she found herself looking up to Willow.

      Buffy had other things on her mind, however, and as much as she found herself loving learning magic, she didn't have Willow's stamina for studying.  She began flying again after a few days, staying as far away from the school and as out of sight as possible.  She started working out, too, once she felt herself getting situated at Hogwarts and comfortable working back into her routine.  Hogwarts didn't have a gymnasium, but she was able to improvise.

      Then, on Saturday, Buffy came down to breakfast with Willow to see Millicent Bulstrode sitting at the head of the Slytherin table.  Draco was nowhere to be seen.  Buffy was surprised to feel a sense of loss at that; she had only spoken to him twice in the previous three days, but she had been used to seeing him at breakfast and was harboring vague notions about being able to talk and reconcile things between them eventually.  That was a lot harder if he was nowhere to be found.

      "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" she whispered to Willow as they entered the hall.

      "Or not seeing what you're not seeing, you mean?"

      "Yeah."

      "Beats me.  Maybe he just overslept."

      "No one would take his seat if he were here."

      "Well, does it have his name on it?"

      Buffy looked at Willow.  The girl was a genius however you sliced it, but Buffy forgot that the politics of Slytherin were coming more easily to her than to her redheaded friend.  "Actually, it pretty much does," she said.  "I don't think Bulstrode would dare if Draco were about to come in."

      Willow shrugged.  "Beats me.  I don't really care where I sit, there's more than enough room."

      "I know, I know.  I just don't like not knowing what's been going on."

      "Well, we've both been pretty busy."

      "Still."

      "You could always just ask someone."

      "I'd rather not.  Who would I ask, anyway?  Bulstrode?"

      "Oh well.  We'll just have to sit around and wonder, then."

      It wasn't long after they sat down, however, that they realized that they were far from the only ones puzzled by Draco's disappearance.  Several of the younger Slytherins were openly discussing it, saying he hadn't been seen in the common room or anywhere else that morning.  One of them asked if anyone had asked Snape, and someone else replied that Snape wasn't talking, if he knew.

      "You think anyone's happened to him?" Willow asked.

      Buffy shook her head.  "No, look at the teachers.  They wouldn't be carrying on like nothing unusual was happening if anything really was."

      "Then he'll probably be back later."

      "Maybe," Buffy answered noncommittally.  She ate a few more morsels, then excused herself, telling Willow that she's meet her in the library later.

      She went back to the dorm and fetched her broom; she hadn't gotten a chance to fly that morning, as they'd gotten up late after a long and exhausting Transfiguration session the previous night.  She needed to clear her head, and flying seemed to do that as well as anything.

      She had not flown far, however, when her preternatural eyes picked up a familiar patch of flaxen hair near the foot of the stairs from the dorms down to the boathouse.  She moved in for a closer look.  It was Draco, and he was descending the steps toward the boathouse, awkwardly maneuvering three suitcases as he went; the stairs were not designed for rolling luggage.

      Before she even thought about it, she was pulling in to land next to him.  He didn't see her until she was within a hundred feet of him, and his expression on recognizing her was unreadable.  He stopped, positioning his suitcases on the stairs as best he could, and waited for her to land.

      "Miss Summers," he acknowledged as she dismounted.  His voice was cold.

      "Hey Draco," she said, trying to sound as friendly as possible.  "Didn't see you at breakfast.  Kind of a shock seeing Millicent in your chair."

      A wry grin split his features.  "Well, it's sturdy.  I think it can support her for a few weeks."

      "Weeks?  Where are you going?"

      "I've got business back at the manor," Draco answered, without meeting her eyes.  "Some unexpected things came up.  Mother can't handle it alone."

      "So you sneak out the back door without saying goodbye?"

      Draco looked at her strangely, as if trying to size her up.  "I'm not such a fan of sentimental send-offs."

      "Well, it doesn't have to be overly sentimental, but a little clue as to where you were going would have been nice—unless you were really into the thought of all the talk at breakfast about your mysterious disappearance."

      Draco laughed mirthlessly.  "I'm honestly past caring how most of those people talk about me by now."

      "Still, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were avoiding me."

      The appraising look in his eyes sharpened.  "If I didn't know better, I'd say you came out here looking for me."

      "Well, you should know better.  I just happened to see you.  I'm in the air a lot, you know."

      "I've noticed."  He pulled out a pocket-watch and glanced at it.  "My boat leaves at nine-fifteen."

      "Well, here, let me give you a hand, at least," Buffy said, reaching over and picking up one of Draco's suitcases before he could object, seeing he was about to.  She was tempted to take two, but she didn't feel like showing off at the moment, and it would be more likely to occasion unwelcome questions at the moment than in the heat of their argument that past Sunday.

      Draco looked about to protest, then shrugged wordlessly and turned back down the stairs.

      "So what exactly came up at home?" Buffy asked.

      "Not something I can really talk about," he said.  Buffy looked at him askance.  She hadn't expected him to tell her, but that wasn't quite the hotheaded 'none-of-your-business' answer she'd been expecting.  He looked tired.

      "Do you know when you'll be back?"

      Draco hesitated, his eyes pensive.  "Not sure.  Hopefully in time for the Hogsmeade trip.  Two weeks.  Hard to say, though."

      "Well, for what it's worth, I hope you aren't gone too long."

      They had reached the boathouse.  Draco stopped and looked at her.

      "You mean that, Miss Summers?"

      "Of course I do.  And what's with the 'Miss Summers?'  Call me Buffy, please."

      Thoughts played behind his eyes, but Buffy couldn't read anything into them.  He was too good at hiding his thoughts; he did it almost instinctively.  "As you wish," he said formally, giving her a polite bow, then finishing, "Buffy."

      "Much better."

      Draco smiled, the first time she had seen him do that in a while, and continued.  "Well, I wouldn't want to be away too long.  Hogwarts is where all the action is, if nothing else."

      "And like I told you back on the train," she added as they came to the foot of the pier, "you have a great smile.  You ought to show it more often."

      Another round of thoughts passed behind his eyes again, but once again, whatever passed behind them stayed behind them.  He did give her another smile, however.

      They moved out onto the pier; a boat similar to the one Hagrid had been in that Monday was ready at the head, but Hagrid was not in it.  Instead, there was a tiny creature, barely as tall as Buffy's waist, with large eyes, large, pointed ears and purple skin.

      "What is that?" Buffy asked, her eyes narrowing.

      "What?  Oh, that's Deggle, one of our house-elves.  Family servants," he added, noting her look.

      "I … see," Buffy said at length.  At least the creature had seen them and made no move to attack, so that was something.

      "Deggle!" Draco called.  "Get these things on board, will you?"

      "Right away, master," the elf called, in a high-pitched voice that Buffy privately found rather annoying.  For that matter, Draco seemed to, too.  The elf snapped its fingers, and the suitcases floated out of Buffy and Draco's hands and stacked themselves at the stern of the boat.

      "Nifty," Buffy commented.

      "Handy," Draco added.  He turned back to face her.  "Do send an owl sometime, if you'd like."

      Buffy's eyes brightened.  "I'd like."

      Draco's eyes clouded again.  "Only be careful what you put in them.  Not sure how much you know, but they can be stopped and read or intercepted.  I have a feeling a lot of the mail to my estate is."

      Buffy was going to ask why, but decided it was probably a bad subject to pursue.  He had told her that his father had gotten into trouble, and she could come up with plenty of ideas on her own as to why someone would do that.

      "All right," she said simply.

      "And watch your back," he said, as he climbed into the boat.  "Unwelcome visitors have gotten into Hogwarts before, and even with more staff around, there's no reason it couldn't happen again.  Just because it's the safest place on Earth doesn't mean it's safe."

      "Well, thanks for that," she said dryly, though she was grateful for the warning; she had never believed that any place could be completely safe, but it was good to have someone else give a reminder every now and then.

      "You're welcome," he said simply.  He turned and looked about to give the order to Deggle to cast off, but checked himself just for a moment.  He turned back to Buffy.

      "About what you said …"

      "Look, Draco …"

      "Just listen.  Please.  I'm not going to start swearing, I just want to say this.  I still don't know what to say about all of that right now," he said, casting a gaze up at a random cloud.  "But I might in another week or two.  Take care of yourself.  I think we'll have some things to talk about when I get back."

      Buffy took a deep breath.  It was unlikely she was going to get any better out of him right now, and she wasn't going to help anything by forcing the issue.  She took another breath, and forced the tension out of her chest.  "You take care of yourself, too, Draco," she said.  "I'm looking forward to that talk."

      He smiled at her again, an even more winsome one than he had worn just moments earlier.  "I'll do that," he promised.  "Deggle!  Come on, we're off."

      "Yes, sir," the elf announced, and the boat turned and surged out across the lake.  Buffy's eyes widened.  Whatever magic the elf was using to move the boat, it was moving a lot faster than it had when Hagrid had brought Buffy, Willow, and the other students to Hogwarts.

      Buffy smiled until Draco was too far away to see, then turned and mounted her broom.  The smile vanished from her face, and her thoughts raced.  Draco had clearly been hiding something; his expression had been the most troubled when Buffy had been her nicest to him, and it was more than just him not ready to be friends again yet.  She couldn't read him well, but something deeper down told her that he had been worried about something.  Leaving so completely unannounced wasn't his style; it wasn't the kind of thing a boy who sat at the head of the Slytherin table would do.  And there had been that very thinly veiled warning about Hogwarts not being safe.

      There was a determined look on her face as she darted skyward and back toward Slytherin Tower.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **COMING SOON: **Chapter 15, "Exploring."  While Harry and Draco are away doing their own thing, Buffy and Willow have a chance to explore the castle a little bit, catch up on a little bit of wizarding world history, and pick up a few new tricks and a few new friends.

**      SNEAK PREVIEW:**

****_Willow and Buffy's eyes widened together.  "You're a werewolf?" Willow asked curiously._

_      Lupin smiled.  "Well, that's not the reaction I expected, but I guess that's a good thing.  Most people have certain … notions … about werewolves."****_

**      AUTHOR'S NOTES:  **Thanks again so much to everyone who reviewed!  I hope everyone had a merry Christmas/Kwanzaa/Chanukah/Winter Solstice/whatever!

      _musicgirl141 …_ what indeed?  (I've said repeatedly that I'd be a Slytherin.  I'm all about the cruel and evil.  Besides, the bad guys always get all the good lines.)

      _ShadowElfBard …_ patience, my friend. ;-)

      Also, thanks once again to _DragonKatGal_ the Awesome Aussie for beta-reading … been forgetting to give you much-deserved props.

      Final note: for those readers who might have thought that this was taking a little while to develop, the first 15 chapters (so up until next time) of this are/were pretty much exposition.  From 16 on, things get a little faster.  I've got rough drafts of up to chapter 52 done, so this is going to be a long one.

      Ciao, and thanks for reading!


	15. Exploring

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Thanks again so much to everyone who reviewed!  You guys rock!  (And definitely keep me writing, too!)

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 15:**

**      EXPLORING**

      _"Reducto!"_ Buffy shouted.  The innocent wooden box they had brought up onto the roof of Slytherin Tower for target practice splintered.

      Willow smiled.  They were both learning quickly.  _"Reparo,"_ she mouthed, flicking her own wand.  The box was whole as new.  Of course, Willow reflected, if the box had been able to think, it probably would have been quite frustrated, as it had been destroyed thirty times already over the past hour.  "You're really doing well with this."

      "Go figure," Buffy mouthed.  "The only think I can keep up with you in is destroying things."

      "Well, you'd think battle magic would come easily to a … to you, all things considered."  Willow cursed inwardly.  They had been at Hogwarts for more than three weeks already, and she still almost slipped much too often for her own liking.

      "I guess it sort of goes with the job description," Buffy admitted.  "But you know, it might be nice to be good at something else."

      "You're awesome at flying."

      "I meant as a school subject.  Flying is like gym here, and it's kind of un-nerdly to brag about being better than someone else in gym class."

      "Well, you're getting this.  Plus, you know, you have other things than magic to work with."

      "True, but I'm a ways from being able to …" Buffy seemed to think better of whatever she had been about to say, and threw up her hands.  "Want to go look for somewhere else to work?"

      Willow thought about it for a while.  Except for the one day that Harry had taken her to the Owlery, all she had ever been to here were Slytherin Tower, the Great Hall and Entrance Hall, the library, and the corridors connecting them.  She'd always wondered about what could lie in the other parts of the castle, but she'd never had a really good excuse.

      "Sure," she said.  "Why not?"  She gathered up a couple of books and the notebook she'd begun compiling, and they headed out of Slytherin Tower.

      "Any ideas?" she asked as soon as they were in the great stairwell.

      "Not really," Buffy admitted.  "But from the looks of things, when Draco and I were out flying, most of the people live and work in this half of the castle, so I figured we might as well try the far side.  Maybe there'll be some big rooms that aren't used in the summer."

      "Works for me," Willow answered.  "If nothing else, we can find where our classes are going to be this fall."

      They explored the upper levels of the castle and found nothing to their liking; there were many empty rooms, but most were either being used for storage or were classrooms with desks and other things that would get in the way.  They had worked their way down to the second floor when they heard a sound from a door off to their right that sounded like a girl crying.

      "What's that?" Buffy whispered.

      "Sounds like someone's in trouble," Willow answered.  She knew there would have been no way around going to check it out, even had she wanted to; Buffy would never have left the matter uninvestigated.  Sure enough, Buffy was already hurrying over to the door from which the sounds were coming.

      "It's a girl's restroom?" the Slayer asked, puzzled.

      "Like you've never cried in a bathroom," Willow added.  Then again, maybe her friend hadn't.  Then again, she thought, reading her friend's reaction, maybe she had.  Buffy's shoulders sagged and she went in.  She had realized that it was more likely to be a girl depressed than one under attack.

      "Hello?" Willow called as she entered the bathroom behind her friend.  It didn't look like there was anyone here.  The sobbing had stopped the moment they opened the door.  Willow backed up a step and stopped in the doorway.  An uneasy feeling had suddenly developed in her stomach as she had set foot in the room.  "Is anyone here?"

      "Who … who is it?" a girl's voice asked.

      "We … we just wanted to see if anything was wrong," Buffy said, now several steps into the bathroom.  She turned aside, and the uneasy feeling in Willow stomach solidified; it was dark, and dangerous.

      "Buffy … I don't think we should be in here," Willow said hesitantly.  For some reason, looking at the round pillar of sinks that had come into view when Buffy had moved aside was making her very nervous.  She suddenly felt the wand inside her robes begin to pulse and throb, and she put a hand over her heart.

      "Of course not!" the girl's voice screamed from nearby.  A silver figure streamed out of the sink where Willow had been looking, and both she and Buffy jumped.  Willow gave a frightened squeak.  The girl continued.  "Why should anyone ever want to come and talk to me?  Poor, miserable, Moaning Myrtle, stay out of her bathroom!  No one should ever need to go in there!"  With a last, melodramatic shriek, she floated up and dove back down into the sink.

      Buffy looked at Willow.  "I don't know how you knew she was there," she said, "but I think you're right.  We shouldn't be here."  The sink gave an irritated, dirty bubble.  Willow was suddenly being herded back out into the hall.  Buffy was already moving on down the hall before Willow could mention that she had felt something in the restroom that felt worse than an ordinary ghost; not even the Bloody Baron had had that kind of feeling around him.  Her wand had stopped throbbing as soon as they had left the room.

      A short distance later, they heard voices in the distance.  Willow recognized the sharp, crisp intonation that always accompanied spellcasting, and the hairs on the back of her neck began to prick up.  Looking at Buffy, it was fairly obvious that they Slayer felt it, too.

      "Hear that?" Willow asked quietly.

      "_Feel_ that?" Buffy answered.

      "Sounds like fighting," Willow added.

      Buffy was already moving forward.  Willow rolled her eyes.  The worse a situation could be, the more recklessly Buffy always seemed to head into it.

      The reached the door from which the voices were coming, a high archway into a large room.  High windows and suspended torches provided the light.  The centerpiece of the room was a long, blue-surfaced table adorned with a series of diagrams of the different phases of the moon.

      Lupin and Moody were dueling on top of it.

      Willow had never seen a wizard's duel before, even a practice one, and she found herself wishing fervently that she never had to see a real one if this what was a practice one looked like.  Both of the professors were speaking so quickly that it was amazing that they could enunciate at that speed, much less move their wands so dexterously, and sparks and jets of multicolored light flew from the ends of their wands, bouncing off invisible shields or fizzling out as their targets cast their counter-curses.

      "Wow," Buffy whispered beside her.

      Willow noticed then that there was an hourglass floating in midair a short distance above the center of the table, filled with bright yellow sand.  It was almost empty.  Willow watched as they fired off a few more spells at each other, trying to pick up some of the charms and curses they were using, then the sand ran out.

      Between one heartbeat and the next, the two teachers stopped.  Lupin mopped sweat from his face with a smile.  "You're looking in good shape with that thing," he said.

      "Lots of practice," Moody replied gruffly.  He seemed to be much less tired.

      "Don't know why you're sparring with me," Lupin added.  "Shacklebolt could give you a better workout."

      "Shacklebolt's busy enough," Moody answered.  "Might as well ask Dumbledore."

      "If you think you'd give Dumbledore a workout," Lupin countered soberly, "you're a lot less cautious than your reputation."

      "Oh, I'm quite beyond cautious, I'm downright paranoid," he said with grim humor, patting the flask at his side; Willow had heard that he drank from nothing else.  "I always think that things could be a trap, or that people could be watching me.  Especially," he added, turning to face Buffy and Willow, who were still half-hidden behind the entrance and who had been behind Moody,  "because they often are."

      "Hi, professor!" Buffy called out, walking into the room.

      "Miss Summers," Lupin acknowledged brightly.  Then, a moment later, "and Miss Rosenberg, I presume.  Not used to seeing you in this part of the castle."

      "Yeah, we, uh … well, we were looking for someplace more private than Slytherin Tower to practice," Willow added lamely.  Moody's eye on her made her innards squirm, and it came to her mind again that the teachers all knew what she done, and nearly done.  Most of them had been surprisingly accepting of her, treating her as any other student, but she couldn't help but wonder what they thought about her privately.

      "Practice, eh?" Moody mused.  "What kind of practice?"

      "Battle magic," Buffy answered immediately.  Willow winced.  She wished she hadn't said it so casually.

      Moody raised the eyebrow above his glass eye.  "Really?  Not looking for a place to duel, I hope?"

      "No, no," Willow and Buffy both said simultaneously.

      Moody gave them another questioning look, as though he were suspicious.  Then he shrugged.  "Very well then.  Well, we were finished here, so you can use this room, if you'd like.  Don't make too big a mess."  With that, he excused himself, his artificial eye following them even as he walked by them; Willow would swear that she saw it turn sideways in its socket as he went by, as though it could see her through the inside of his skull.  The clunking footfalls of his wooden leg receded into the distance.

      Buffy gave a puzzled look after him.  "What's his deal?" he asked.

      Lupin, who hadn't even dismounted from the table yet, gave a light laugh.  "Moody's generally a suspicious character.  He was one of the most successful Aurors ever, before he had to leave the Ministry, but he racked up a lot of enemies.  One of Voldemort's servants kidnapped him and disguised himself as Moody two years ago, using Polyjuice Potion—a potion that allows you to take the physical form of someone else.  The fake taught Defense Against the Dark Arts here at Hogwarts for a full year, just waiting for a chance to get at Harry, all the while keeping the real Moody alive in his steamer trunk to get pieces of him, so he could keep brewing the potion."

      Willow's eyes widened, and she cast a completely different kind glance down the hallway where Moody had gone.  No wonder the man was paranoid.  Of course, the old cliché about it not being paranoia if they really were after you sprang into her head.

      "So the real one got the job, then the fake one kidnapped him and took his place, and now the real one's back?"

      Lupin nodded.  "He took last year off, doing some other things for Dumbledore, since it wasn't public that Voldemort had come back yet; last year was a rather—interesting—one, even by Hogwarts standards." 

      Willow nodded.  Over the past three weeks, she'd heard bits and pieces of what had happened the previous year, though most of the tales seemed to center more on the Weasley twins' escape than the more important things.  

"So what's your story?" Buffy asked.

      "Sorry?"

      "How'd you end up with a share of the Defense job?"

      "Oh.  I guess people don't talk about me as much as I thought.  Maybe they've got other things to talk about now."

      "We're a little new here, you know."

      Lupin nodded.  He seemed to be deciding how much he wanted to say.  "True.  Well, I taught the year before Moody was hired.  I had to leave once people found out I was a werewolf."

      Willow and Buffy's eyes widened together.  "You're a werewolf?" Willow asked curiously.

      Lupin smiled.  "Well, that's not the reaction I expected, but I guess that's a good thing.  Most people have certain … notions … about werewolves."

      "I guess they didn't tell you everything about me," Willow said.  "I dated one for a while."  She hadn't thought about Oz in some time.

      It Lupin's eyes' turn to widen.  "They certainly didn't tell me that.  Fascinating.  And you knew this when you were seeing each other?"

      Willow nodded.  "He locked himself up every full moon, and we just lived with it.  Living on the Hellmouth kind of plays with your idea of what's an acceptable risk."

      Lupin's gaze was thoughtful.  "I take a potion for it," he said.  "I still transform, but I don't go mad."

      Willow was shocked.  "Oh my gosh, you're going to have to teach me that!  I never knew there was such a thing."

      "There wasn't," Lupin admitted.  "Professor Snape invented it a few years ago."

      Willow thought she was shocked before, but she was even more so now.  "He _invented _it?"  She never would have thought Snape the kind to be able to do something like that.  She'd always thought of him as just a grumpy middle-aged man.

      Lupin's smile was kindly, but serious.  "Now, now, Miss Rosenberg, you don't really think he got the position as potions teacher for nothing?" Lupin asked.  "I asked him to show me how to make it, so he wouldn't have to himself.  It was completely beyond me.  Besides Dumbledore, Nicholas Flamel, and Voldemort, Professor Snape is probably the only man in the world skilled enough to make it."

      Willow found herself thinking of her Head of House in an entirely new way.  She could tell that Buffy was thinking the same thing, too.

      "Anyway," Lupin said, continuing, "if you want to practice battle magic, this is probably as good a room as any.  It was converted into a dueling club three years ago, and the room was left as it was even though the club fell apart.  However, if you're just looking for a more private place to practice, you're welcome to use my office."

      Willow looked up at him.  "Are you serious?"

      Lupin's eyes twinkled.  "Of course," he said.  "As long as you aren't planning on trying Denblight or House of Ill Omen curses."

      "What about the Meteorus charm?"

      "I'd rather you not try that one, either."

      "I think we'll manage," Willow grinned.  She turned to Buffy.  "What do you think?"

      Buffy looked appraisingly at Lupin for a moment, as though wondering if she were missing something in his offer, then nodded.  

      Lupin smiled and led them to his office.  It wasn't far.  It was cozy, but still larger than any professor's office Willow had ever seen at UC-Sunnydale; it sported a large, polished wooden desk and an elegant fireplace, as well as several shelves of books.

      "Well, it isn't much, but I doubt you'll be disturbed; students are welcome to come visit me, but no one ever does," Lupin said, with a gesture around the room.  "Feel free to use it whenever you want, except on the three days around the full moon."  With that, he walked over to his desk, sat down, and began writing out lesson plans.

      Willow suddenly understood what had made Buffy suspicious of Lupin's offer, and she was surprised that she hadn't thought of it herself.  Lupin would of course be in his office, if not all the time, then at least part of the time.  It seemed extremely unlikely that anyone else would use magical eavesdropping on a teacher's office, particularly a Defense Against the Dark Arts one; in addition to being a much more serious offense, the office was probably warded somehow.  However, the cost of the privacy from everyone else would be letting Lupin watch what they were doing, at least some of the time.

      For some reason, however, Willow found that that didn't bother her overmuch.  She made a note to look for a better place, where they could have complete privacy, but she doubted they were going to find that just by walking around, and a better offer was unlikely to present itself.  There was also the fact that Lupin was the professor for all the first through fourth year Defense classes, so he would probably be able to help them along with their studies, if he wanted.

      "Well," Buffy said behind her.  "Where were we?"

      "A couple more Reductors," Willow answered reflexively.  She thought about her next answer, but realized that all the teachers already knew as much about her as anyone anyway, and Harry had seemed to think highly of Lupin in one of his letters.  The only real reason for leaving the Tower had been to find a place where they could say words like 'Slayer' without risking giving anything away.  She continued, "then elemental spells and wards.  If we can get through earth and water today, we can finish fire and air tomorrow and enjoy the weekend at Hogsmeade."  Her textbook had said that learning those normally would have taken a week apiece; Willow was hoping to compress everything into two days.  If Lupin was impressed by where they were going, or concerned about any damage that might accidentally come to his office, he did not show it.  Indeed, he offered a few very helpful tips now and then when he took a break from writing lesson plans for his first-year classes, and even left them alone in the room while he went to teach for an hour and a half.

      It was early to say, and Willow had become a somewhat less trusting person over the years since she had unthinkingly followed a vampire into a graveyard, but Willow left Lupin's office that night believing that she had just made another friend at Hogwarts.

      *           *           *           *           *

      **COMING SOON:** Chapter 16, "Hogsmeade."  Buffy, Willow, Ron and Hermione have a quiet, sedate, leisurely weekend getaway at Hogsmeade with no excessive drama, surprises, suspense, or violence.

      Yeah, right!

      **SNEAK PREVIEW:**

"Finite,"_ Willow said quickly, once again laying a hand on her wand within her robes.  "It was the same thing I saw outside Honeydukes.  Please don't call me crazy when I say this, all right?  It was a big, ugly brown rat, and if I didn't know better, I'd swear it was watching us."_


	16. Hogsmeade

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

      **CHAPTER 16:**

**      HOGSMEADE**

      Buffy and Willow made better than even their ambitious schedule demanded over the next few days, finishing all four elements and moving on to the basics of Giant Strength and Centaur Speed potions; Buffy had always lagged behind Willow in Potions much more than in the other subjects they were studying together, but those two brews had come fairly easily to her.  She wondered if those two weren't really that hard or if she were just getting better.  Practicing in Lupin's office seemed to work better for her than in the library or atop Slytherin Tower; it was less stressful not having to watch what she said so much.

      By Friday night, however, Buffy was growing anxious again.  She had sent Draco two owls over the weeks since he had left.  She had gotten nothing in return.  Willow, by contrast, had sent six and received a response every time—the following day, more often than not.  He had hinted that he would try to be back by Friday night so he could make the visit to Hogsmeade on Saturday.  No one in the Slytherin dormitory had seen him, however; indeed, there were still so many rumors about where he had gone that it sounded like he really had told no one else of his destination when he left.  Despite the ubiquitous excitement among all four Houses as the Hogsmeade weekend approached, Buffy awoke on Saturday with an uneasy feeling in her stomach.  Her sleep had not gone well; she had dreamt of being chased by a rat the size of a man, with a face that seemed to change between vaguely human and completely animal.  She had also heard Draco's voice crying out in pain from the ground beneath her, sometimes mixed with a dark, fierce hissing sound, and then she had happened upon him in a dark, foul-smelling room, only to find him twenty years older than he had been, with eyes that weren't his.

      "'morning!" Willow's voice called from nearby, bringing her awareness back to the present.

      Buffy opened one sleepy eye.  "Well, you certainly seem to be all excited this morning," she noted.

      Willow shrugged.  "Well, everyone else seems to be, so it's catching.  Plus, I've never seen an all-wizarding village before.  It should be interesting."

      "Sounds more like a tourist attraction," Buffy sighed, rolling over in bed to face the wall.

      "Oh, come on, now, you've been excited about today for days," Willow reminded her.

      "True," Buffy admitted with a sigh.  "But it wasn't just for the chance to go shopping, you know."

      "He'll be back eventually.  We'd have heard if anything happened to him."  For some reason, however, Willow's voice didn't carry a lot of reassurance.

      "Maybe," Buffy sighed without turning around.  "But no news is bad news, however you slice it."

      Buffy felt magic being worked behind her.  "Come on," Willow said.  "Here.  Try this."  Buffy turned around and saw Willow holding a small cup of a steaming, dark liquid out to her.

      "What is it?"  It looked like a potion of some kind.  Buffy didn't recognize it, but it smelled familiar.

      "Mocha espresso," Willow answered with a grin.

      Buffy couldn't suppress a grin, but put a weary hand over her eyes.  "Just ten more minutes," she said.  Willow shrugged and downed the mocha, and went on about getting ready for a few more minutes.

      "You're gonna miss breakfast," Willow said, once she was finished.  "Come on."

      Buffy grunted noncommittally.  She was half thinking of flying to Hogsmeade on her broom and just getting there late.

      "Hey, no grunting, sleepyhead," Willow chided.  A mischievous tone entered her voice.  "I did learn the Tickling Charm last week, you know."

      Buffy removed her hand from her face and lifted her head from the pillow.  "You wouldn't dare," she said.

      Willow grinned and tapped her wand against her left palm suggestively.

      "All right, all right, I'm up," Buffy groaned.  Her friend had clearly not abandoned all of her evil ways.

      "Aww, what a pity," Willow said with a look of mock-disappointment.

      Breakfast that morning was short, as all the students were excited to get going, and it was generally assumed that they would be eating more than their fill in the wizarding village, anyway.  However, before the group left for the boats for the train station, Dumbledore stood and cleared his voice for silence.

      "Good morning!" he said, smiling.  "I see everyone more excited than I have in some time, particularly our younger students, and with good reason.  Let me simply remind you, however, that Hogsmeade is not Hogwarts, and is the closest unprotected place to the school.  It's likely to be watched, so be careful what you say and do there.  And do sample the new watermelon truffles at Honeydukes, they really are heavenly."

      Shortly afterward, the students filed out and down to the boats, crossed the lake to the train station, and boarded the train waiting there bound for Hogsmeade.  She took the opportunity to tell Willow about the dream she'd had the previous night, and was actually somewhat relieved to see Willow taking it seriously, asking questions about details and the emotions she'd felt along with it.  Buffy remembered that Willow had begun studying Divination as well, and wondered if she was seeing anything more in the dream than Buffy herself was, but Willow shook her head disappointedly when she asked.  A moment later, the whistle signaled their arrival at Hogsmeade.

      As Buffy got off the train, she understood what all the younger children had been so excited about.  It certainly was a village unlike anything she'd ever seen.  It looked like a Christmas card, only in the summer, and the way the younger children got off the train, they might well have believed it to be Christmas.

      "There's Ron and Hermione," she called to Willow, noting the tall figure of the youngest Weasley son sticking out above the crowd of younger children.  They were heading toward a shop that looked like a gingerbread house; the sign above the door read Honeydukes.

      They followed after the other two as best they could; they were a ways behind because of standing on the platform to take in the scene, and the crowd was dense.

      The inside of Honeydukes looked little different than the outside, and the walls were lined with shelves, barrels, and bins, from which all manner of delicious aromas were rising.  Ron and Hermione were already filling large baskets with heaps of mouthwatering desserts, the likes of which Buffy had never seen before.

      "Don't let Little Debbie see this; she'd die of envy," Buffy quipped.

      "Wonder if they give free samples?" Willow wondered.

      "Or we could just ask our more experienced shopper friends," Buffy answered, pulling Willow through the shop and over to the two Gryffindors.  Hermione smiled when she saw them; Ron's face was still impassive.

      "Willow!  Buffy!" the brown-haired Gryffindor greeted them.  "Have you tried these?"  She held out a pair of small, soft cakes that looked like pound cakes only darker and richer.  "They're a Honeydukes specialty, and absolutely amazing."

      "Of course, everything in here is a Honeydukes specialty," Ron added with a patient grin.  Hermione shot him a look.

      Willow took one of the cakes and nibbled a corner of it; a moment later, she had downed the entire thing.  Buffy took that as a sign that all was safe, and tried the other herself, and her eyes widened.  A moment later, the rest was gone as well, and she was licking the remnants off her fingers, not caring who was watching.  She was starting to understand that the appeal of this place was more than just as a tourist attraction.

      Forty-five minutes later, the four sixth-years left Honeydukes, each with a pair of bags full of a wide assortment of their favorite snacks, and had already eaten more than a handful of desserts as well; Honeydukes apparently didn't care if people sampled their wares while they were there, as they seemed to get more than a lot of business.  

      As they left, Buffy turned to look at Willow, who was bringing up the rear; her redheaded friend had slowed down and was looking around the corner of the shop.

      "What?" she asked.

      "Don't know.  Thought I saw something scampering away."

      "A mouse?"

      "Maybe.  Though I wouldn't think a place like this would have mice; the owners looked like they were kinda careful."

      Buffy shrugged.  "Oh well.  If one of your watermelon truffles tastes like Fivel, I'm sure you could ask for a refund."

      Willow grinned.  "I'll keep that in mind."  They hurried to catch up with the others.

      "So where to now?" Buffy asked.

      "Not sure," Ron answered.  "I usually went to Zonko's joke shop after Honeydukes, but Fred and George's shop is so much better, so it isn't quite the same anymore."

      "Fred and George's?" Willow asked, looking around for a sign.

      "My twin brothers," Ron explained.  "They've opened a place up in Diagon Alley.  Doing great, but they're putting poor Zonko out of business."

      "Oh," Willow said, suddenly deciding that she wasn't likely to see a Fred and George's along this road.

      "Hey, I think we saw that," Buffy added.  "Weasleys' Wizard something-or-other."

      "Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes," Ron clarified.  He was trying to sound indifferent to whether or not his brothers owned their own store, but Buffy heard a subdued note of pride in his voice.

      "Come on, let's grab a table at the Three Broomsticks before the rush," Hermione said.  Ron shrugged and followed her, and the two Slytherins followed after him.

      The Three Broomsticks turned out to be a large and noisy but clean and cheery tavern near the center of the village.  Hermione, Buffy, and Willow went to a booth that had just opened up, while Ron went up to the bar to get everyone a round of butterbeer.

      "Butterbeer?" Willow asked.  "What's that?"

      "Just wait," Hermione answered.  "You'll see."

      Ron returned a moment later with two enormous, foaming tankards clasped in each hand, setting them down on the table before taking his seat next to Hermione.  "Good idea coming early, Hermione," he said.  "We've made happy hour.  Of course, just about any hour here is a happy hour."

      "Oh?  And why is that?" Willow asked.

      Ron smiled.  "Take a drink and see."

      Willow did just that, and another expression just like that which she had worn on her first taste of Honeydukes treats crossed her face.  "I think I'm getting the picture," she said.

      Buffy took a sip of the smooth, golden-brown liquid a moment later, and gasped.  She had been nervous about anything with the name 'beer' served warm, but she found that she needn't have worried.  It was rich and refreshing, and didn't really taste much like beer at all.

      "Wow," she gasped, when she had drunk as much as she could in one sip.  "Do they sell kegs of this stuff?"

      Ron laughed.  "Two galleons and eleven sickles apiece, but unless you're a Malfoy, you can't go shelling out for that kind of thing every day."

      Buffy and Willow looked at each other.  The Trust Fund at Gringott's had to hold several thousand galleons.

      Willow's eyes suddenly narrowed as she stared past Buffy, however, and Buffy turned a questioning look in her friend's eye.  Willow returned the look in a way that seemed to say 'act normal.'  Buffy turned back to continue the conversation with the two Gryffindors, but Hermione had noted Willow's look as well.

      "Willow, what's wrong?" she asked.

      "Oh, nothing," Willow said passively, as she turned towards the wall.  The three other students sitting at the table knew that that was not entirely the case, however, as she reached into her robes, laid a hand upon her wand, and whispered _"Binoculate."_

      Hermione's eyes widened imperceptibly, but she controlled herself.  Ron, however, was another story, suddenly realizing what she was doing and turning outward to survey the room.  Willow hissed, and swung back to grab a last glance at the spot she had been looking at over Buffy's shoulder.  Realizing that Ron had given them away, Buffy turned at the same time as well.  She turned to see a small, hairless tail and the rear of a small, brown creature with patchy fur disappearing through a hole in the side wall of the tavern, heading outside.

      "What was that?" she asked, turning to Willow.

      "Did you see someone?" Ron asked dully, still not comprehending that he had given them away until Hermione punched him in the shoulder.  "Ow," he winced irritably.

      _"Finite,_" Willow said quickly, once again laying a hand on her wand within her robes.  "It was the same thing I saw outside Honeydukes.  Please don't call me crazy when I say this, all right?  It was a big, ugly brown rat, and if I didn't know better, I'd swear it was watching us."

      Buffy nodded, and before Willow had even finished speaking, was adding, "I saw it, too … what the?"

      Ron and Hermione had both stood bolt upright before Buffy had even begun talking, as soon as the word 'rat' had left Willow's lips.  She hadn't been expecting that kind of reaction.  Their wands were in their hands.

      "Bloody hell," Ron swore as he pushed out of the booth.  His butterbeer was forgotten, which alone told Buffy that Willow had stumbled on something serious.

      "Peter," Hermione spat as she followed Ron outside.

      "Who?"

      Hermione waved a brief hand at Ron to watch his mouth before he said anything, then turned and spoke softly and shortly to them.  "The man who betrayed Harry's parents to Voldemort."

      Willow's hands shot to her mouth to stifle a frightened squeak.  Hermione and Ron were already moving for the door.

      Willow was pushing at Buffy's side, trying to push the Slayer out of the booth.  "Come on, we've got to follow them!"

      Buffy turned as soon as Hermione and Ron were a short distance away and clearly were not listening.  Then she wheeled on her friend, and spoke in an even quieter but even more forceful tone.  "All right, listen," she said.  "Things are going down fast but … _do … not … get … involved._  Remember why you're here?"

      Willow's eyes blazed, but she took several deep breaths, and the darkness around the edge of her eyes receded, but Buffy could sense it still lurking near the surface.  "Right," she breathed at last, sounding deflated.

      "Look at me," Buffy whispered sternly.

      Willow looked up and met Buffy's eyes.  They were unreadable.  Nonetheless, Buffy was breathing a little easier; had Willow truly lost control, she probably would have tried to push Buffy aside by now to get out of the booth … one way or another.

      Buffy nodded slowly, and slowly backed out of the booth.

      Willow calmly reached for her wand.

      "Willow …?"

      Willow looked Buffy firmly in the eyes.  "I won't let them get hurt."

      Buffy tried again to read Willow's eyes, but it was even harder now.  Willow was keeping her emotions under iron control.  Nevertheless, Willow had always been a poor liar, so Buffy guessed that if she were already intending to get involved no matter what, she would have given it away somehow.

      "All right," she said finally, now eager to catch up.  "Let's go."  Then hustled out of the Three Broomsticks as quickly as they dared.

      Ron and Hermione were already nowhere in sight.

      "Did you see two kids come running out of here?" Buffy asked a loitering wizard in green robes, who looked like he'd already had a bit too much butterbeer.  The wizard nodded and pointed off down a side street.

      Buffy and Willow ran onward.  They asked a few more people for directions, and fortunately, each one seemed to lead them on correctly, or they would not have found more people who had seen them.  Eventually, however, they came to a grassy common on the hillside at the edge of the village, and there was no one else in sight.

      Buffy looked around furiously.  "Dammit, where'd they go?"

      "There's got to be someone around we can ask," Willow called from nearby.  The iron self-control she had mustered in the Three Broomsticks was showing signs of cracking.  She looked around as though she could find their tracks in the dirt.  "Two Hogwarts students running after a rat have to attracted some attention."

      As if in answer, they heard a low hiss from off in the grass to their right.  Buffy turned, swinging her wand around, before realizing that it was only a large garter snake in the grass.

      Then another hiss reached her ears, and she nearly dropped her wand.  This hiss did not come from another snake.

It came from Willow.

      "Willow, what are you doing?" she asked.  "Are you trying to tick it off?"

      "What?" Willow asked turning around.  "I only asked it which way they'd gone!"

      "You _asked_ it?  You can _talk _to it?"

      "Didn't you just hear me?"

      "I heard you hissing like Cordelia in a temper tantrum."

      "I … what?"  The snake hissed again, and she turned and hissed back.  Then she turned back to Buffy.  "You didn't just hear that?"

      "You just hissed _again_, Will.  I'm starting to see some serious weirdness creeping into this trip.  I don't speak Hiss, and five minutes ago, neither did you."

      "I …" she turned and hissed at the snake, and it seemed to hiss in answer.  It had also curled up and seemed to be looking at them curiously.  A moment later, Willow turned back to Buffy again.  "I guess I do," she said, as though just realizing what had been coming out of her mouth.  "Weird."

      "Are you _sure_ you're talking to it?"

      "Buffy, I swear I'm not making this up."

      "Then what is it saying?"

      "Well, it said that it saw two kids chasing a rat up the hill thataway, towards that shack up there.  And then just now it said that you couldn't hear us talking, and that's when I realized … well, that I was making with the hissing, like you said."

      "So this isn't something you've been practicing?"

      "No," Willow answered earnestly, "or I swear I would have told you.  I'm just as confused as you here, Buffy."

      "All right," she said, waving that aside.  "Not like we're going to get better witnesses.  Let's hit that shack."

      They had not gotten very far, however, before they heard shouting and sounds like soft, sharp fireworks going off.

      "Sounds like that snake was right," Buffy noted as they ran.  "Who'd a' thunk?"

      The shack was inset into a small depression in the hillside.  It was the size of a tiny cottage, but it looked as though it had been completely boarded up until recently.  Very recently.  There was a smoking hole in the side of it, and the sounds of fighting echoed within.

      Buffy darted forward until she reached the entrance.  The first floor of the shack was a complete mess, and looked as though it had been so since well before Ron, Hermione, and the rat had arrived.  The floor was damaged and there were several holes in it.  Flashes of multicolored lights and the sounds of frenzied chanting were coming from below, and Buffy saw Hermione and Ron dueling with a man barely Hermione's height, but who seemed at least reasonably skilled with the wand in his artificial hand.  His hand was clearly a prosthetic of some kind, fashioned of a strange metallic silver material that seemed every bit as supple as flesh.

      "Willow!" Buffy called, as her friend drew alongside and reached within her robe for her wand.

      "What?" Willow asked, a note of hurried anxiety in her voice.

      Buffy took a deep breath.  "Stay here."

      Willow's face suddenly became a picture of indignation, then denial, then resignation.  Her shoulders slumped, and she took her hand off the wand within her robes.  She let out a frustrated but accepting breath through her nose before she nodded, her eyes still intent on the fighting below.

      "Hurry," Willow murmured.

      Even as she spoke, a jet of red light from the end of the man's wand flashed out in an arc and caught Ron on the wrist, who dropped his wand with a stunned cry.  A moment later, there was a burst in the air above Ron, and he dropped to the ground, reaching weakly for his wand but not completely out.  Hermione frantically hurled a counter-curse to block a third spell that the man sent to knock Ron out completely.

      The man's back was to Buffy and Willow, but Buffy could feel a grin splitting his features.  "I've been practicing," he rasped to Hermione in a high, nasal voice.  Hermione began to look more than a little frightened.  She hadn't seen Buffy and Willow arrive yet, either, and while she looked like she knew what she was doing with a wand, she also looked like she was getting tired and tight.

      "So have I!" Buffy called to distract him.  

      She leapt into the air so that she would land on the man's head if there hadn't been floor in the way.  She took care of the last part in midair, angling her wand downward and shouting _"Reducto!"_ as she descended.

      The floor disintegrated in a shower of dust and splinters, causing both the floor and Buffy to fall on the man simultaneously, more than disrupting whatever spell he had been preparing to launch skyward at her.  He collapsed and rolled across the cellar.  He was hurt, but he shouted _"Stupefy!"_ before he even reached his feet again, and Buffy was forced to roll and duck a jet of scarlet light headed in her direction.  She cursed silently.  She could have ended the fight before it even started had he given her another second.

      The man caught a look at her then, and a look of recognition passed across his face.  It faded a moment later, however, as a jet of flame erupted from his wand in Buffy's direction.

      Buffy smiled.  She and Willow had practiced this only two days ago.  Focusing her awareness completely on the fire, she extended her empty left hand.  _"Manus infernum,"_ she spat.

      The fire struck her left hand and stopped.  The balding man and Hermione both looked at her wide-eyed for a split second.  Buffy breathed a sigh of relief.  She wasn't sure if she'd had the power and control needed to do that in the thick of battle, but she had to show Willow that there was no need to get involved; she knew her friend's desire to be helpful was overpowering at times, for good or ill.

      "Ooh, sorry, insufficient postage, return to sender," Buffy mocked as she flung the fireball back at its sender.

      _"Protego!"_ the man gasped as his own fireball came back at him.  He nearly managed to send it back at Buffy, but instead only managed to block it back into the remains of the floor above scattered on the ground between them.  The wood and dust immediately caught fire.

      Buffy grinned.  Her Slayer's battle instincts were taking over, and as always, her training came back to her when she needed it, with a little bit of improvisation for good measure.  She and Willow had practiced floating burning matchsticks around in Lupin's fireplace yesterday.  This wasn't really any different, just larger.

      "_Pyrokinesia lignis,"_ she chanted with a feral grin as the fire began to spread.

      As though a cyclone had arisen around her and engulfed all the burning wood, and dust on the floor, the debris on the floor rose into the air and whirled around her.  She pointed her wand, and the flaming whirlwind became a stream aimed straight at the man across from her.

      The man shouted _"Protego!"_ again, but was also forced to duck behind a pile of empty crates to avoid the brunt of the blast, and even then, a sharp squeak from behind the crates let Buffy know that at least some of the smaller pieces of debris had gotten through.

      _"Reducto!"_ she called.  More innocent empty boxes met their unfortunate demise.

      _"Luminaris solaire!"_ the other man cried.  There was a note of desperation entering his voice.  Buffy shielded her eyes as a burst of golden-white light filled the basement, heard Willow shout something above her, and ducked just in case the other man somehow wasn't as blinded as her.

      When her eyes came into focus again a moment later, however, she was just in time to see the rat that she had seen earlier darting across the back of the basement wall.  She aimed a curse at it, but before she could bring her wand to bear, it had slipped behind Hermione, who was still blinded from the light and holding her hands over her eyes weakly.

      "HERMIONE, DOWN!" Buffy shouted.  Hermione quickly dove to the ground, but it was too late; the rat had vanished.  Buffy aimed another Reductor curse at the pile of crates where it had vanished.  A moment later, she barked a sharp oath.  A dark opening had revealed itself behind where the crates had been.  There had been a secret passage out of the basement of the shack.  She approached the opening guardedly, but nothing came from within.

      _"Lumos solaire,_" she snapped, using the ray of sunlight like a searchlight to see as far as possible down the tunnel, but the rat was nowhere in sight.  Another oath escaped between her clenched teeth.

      She pointed her wand at the ground at the entrance to the tunnel. _"Terrandicto,_" she said.  A wall of earth rose out of the ground and blocked the tunnel; she didn't put a whole lot of effort into it, so it was thin, but it would at least stop anyone taking a cheap shot at her back from the darkness.

      "Come on down, Will," she called.  As though the normal turn of voice had suddenly brought Hermione back to herself, she quickly dove to where Ron lay to check on him.

      Willow nodded.  _"Wingardium Leviosa,"_ she said simply, and stepped out over the gap Buffy had left.  She floated down to the basement.  She kept her calm while she was doing this, but as soon as her feet touched the ground, she was kneeling next to Ron as well.

      "Are you all right?" she asked.

      "Yeah … I'll be fine …" Ron said weakly.

      Willow held him and looked into his eyes.  "Maybe a light concussion," she said clinically.  "And his hand got Stunned.  Should be OK by tomorrow, especially if we can get him to the hospital wing.  Wish I'd brought some of the potions I was working on yesterday."

      "I'll be fine," Ron repeated, wincing as the feeling began to return to his wrist.

      Willow seemed to accept that at face value, as she stood up.  Gradually, the concern melted off her face, replaced by a smile both warm and predatory at the same time.  Suddenly, she leapt over and threw her arms around Buffy.

      "Buffy, that was awesome!" she cried.  She pulled away a moment later before it could get embarrassing.  _Well, OK, more embarrassing,_ Buffy thought after a moment.  "You're completely insane, of course, but I love you anyway.  You about gave me a heart attack when you tried to catch that fireball."

      "He was already tired," Buffy demurred modestly.  "I think Hermione here had already worn him down a ways."

      "Hey, what about me?" Ron whined.

      "And Ron," Buffy added with a laugh.

      "I don't know," Hermione answered uncertainly.  "He seemed stronger than last time."  Then, more self-deprecatingly, "Or we were just careless.  He surprised us as we came in.  We never got a chance to recover."

      "Oh yeah, I got the feeling that you two had met before," Buffy answered.  "What's the scoop with that?"

      Ron's face contorted into a snarl.  "Posed as my bloody pet for a few years, he did."

      Buffy's eyes widened.  She was starting to understand why he and Hermione had vanished from the Three Broomsticks so quickly.  On the other hand, it was nice to know that she wasn't the only one whose life was a long way from simple.

      "I'm guessing that didn't end so well," Willow surmised.

      "No, it didn't," Hermione agreed.  "Professor Lupin and Sirius Black exposed him before he could do anything permanent to us, and captured him here, but he got away as soon as we'd gotten back through the tunnel to Hogwarts.  It's a long story."

      Buffy swung around.  "Waitaminit, _here?!_  As in, right here in this building?"

      "Yeah, this used to be called the Shrieking Shack, because of …"

      "Never mind!" Buffy cut her off.  "So you're saying that tunnel goes back to Hogwarts?!"

      Hermione's widened as the import of that struck her.  "Oh dear, we've got to get back and warn them!"

      Ron struggled to pull a watch from his pocket.  "Bloody hell, the first train back leaves in ten minutes; if we miss that, it's another two hours!" he began to stumble towards the rickety staircase.

      "Ron, take it easy, you're in no condition to run!" Hermione cried.

      "I'll go," Willow said.

      Buffy gave her friend a look, then realized Willow was right.  She had to stay here in case whoever that dark wizard was came back; Hermione and Ron were hardly in top condition, and Willow was less likely to have to fight if she played messenger than if she played guard.  "All right, hurry, don't miss that train," she said.

      "I won't," Willow promised, and put on a brave grin.  "Oh, and see if you can get our Honeydukes bags back?  We left them all in the tavern."

      Ron's hands went to his lips as if that were the most horrifying thing that had happened to them that day.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **AUTHOR'S NOTES:**  My first magical battle scene!  Please let me know what you thought of it!

      Thanks again for all your reviews last chapter!

      **COMING SOON:**  Chapter 17, "Trading Stories."  After another short conversation in Hiss, Willow gets back to Hogwarts, and the hunt for Peter Pettigrew begins.

      **SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_      "Excellent," McGonagall said, and a feral grin split her face.  "I do believe Hagrid keeps some rather interesting creatures that eat rodents."_


	17. Trading Stories

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 17:**

**      TRADING STORIES**

      Willow's mind was racing as she sped away from the Shrieking Shack, quaffing a little Centaur Speed potion as she ran.  She had seen a lot while living on the Hellmouth her entire life, but this would have been enough to make Giles' head spin.

      She slowed as she reached the bottom of the hill.  With the liquid fire of the speed potion burning in her veins, she knew she was only five minutes from the train.  She looked around for the snake she had spoken to earlier.  She spotted it a moment later.  It looked as though it hadn't moved from where she had left it, and looked as though it had been watching the shack with interest.

      "That sssounded exccciting," it said.

      "Exciting, dangerous, whatever.  But thank you, anyway."

      The snake actually managed to look pleased.  "Well, you're welcome," it said politely.  "And I do sssay, you have better manners than the lasst perssson to talk to snakesss in thisss town."

      "Last person?" Willow asked.

      "The Heir," the snake answered.  "Pompousss bassstard.  Only likesss the great ssserpentsss and poisonousss sssnakesss.  But sssome of my friendsss work for him anyway."

      "The Heir?"

      "The Heir of the Houssse of Ssserpentsss."

      Willow's mind leapt.  "Slytherin."

      "Yesss."

      She smiled at it.  "Well, I'm not trying to be like other Slytherins," she said.  "But, unfortunately, I don't want to be rude, but I need to return to the castle."

      "Cccertainly."

      "But I need to ask one thing, if you know … why can I talk to you?"

      "You are connected to the Heir," the snake answered.  "Sssomehow."

      Willow gasped, feeling the wand in her pocket, and her mind made another leap.  _Voldemort._  _Who else would be the Heir of Slytherin?  And I'm … connected … to him?  How?  I don't even know him!_

      "Are you sure?" she asked weakly.

      The snake flicked its tongue at her, and she realized that had it been a human, it would have been laughing.  "I do not understand magic," it admitted, "but that is how I've heard the ssstory."  The snake gave a couple of long, slow blinks of its eyes that Willow realized were the equivalent of a shrug.

      "Well, thank you, anyway," she managed weakly, backing away.

      "Do come back and sssay hi.  It'sss been a while sssince I had a good conversssation."

      "I—I will," she managed.  "Thank you for talking with me."

      "You're quite welcome."

      Willow bolted away as fast as her augmented legs could carry her.  She prayed inwardly that her last question hadn't wasted too much time for her to make it to the train.  Her mind was racing even faster than before, though she tried to shove the thoughts to the back of her mind while she concentrated on making the train.

      She made it to the train only seconds before the doors closed, throwing herself into an empty seat by the door just before the train lurched into motion.  There were more than enough empty seats, as few students were returning from Hogsmeade so early, and Willow stretched out languidly on the plush purple bench, but her thoughts were anything but languid.

      _You are connected to the Heir._

_      I'm connected to Voldemort._

_      The wand chooses the wielder as much as the wielder the wand._

_      He forged that wand you are holding himself._

_      I'm connected to the murderer of Harry's parents.  The dark sorcerer that's trying to take over the world._

      Despite the plush comfort of the seats, she had developed a headache by the time the train pulled into Hogwarts Station, even though the ride was short.  She hopped out and quickly moved to the boats, thinking about the first time she had held the wand.

_      Voices spiraled across her consciousness, some human, some somehow less so, almost serpentine, yet all somehow comprehensible … it looked as though Willow were wearing a crown of twisting, interlocking serpents of lightning and flame._

      _It's like meeting a long-lost relative.  A familiar presence nearby._

      She opened the fold of her robe and looked at the wand, just sitting there in her pocket, looking no different than any wand any other student might carry.  Dumbledore had given it to her.

      _If I truly believed you wanted to wield it, I wouldn't be giving it to you._

_      If you were supposed to be getting away from it, I would have suggested taking you to Siberia.  That is the kind of thing you are supposed to be learning to control.  And … Willow, trust me when I say this, as I have trusted you so far …_

She lowered her head from where she had been looking at the sky, and repeated Dumbledore's words to her for softly aloud, "you _can_ learn to control it."  Her resolve stiffened.  She could learn to control it.

      Another thought edged itself back into her awareness, one that had been on her mind since the end of the fight in the basement of the Shrieking Shack until that snake had told her … what it had told her.  She had quickly, reflexively, shouted a Lightshield counter-curse when Peter had begun reciting the Sunburst curse.  The flash had not affected her.  She had watched his transformation, and it had touched something in her, something she hadn't brought up at the shack because she felt guilty about thinking about it at all when there had been so many more important things to worry about.

      _How did he do that?_

      Amy Madison had transformed herself into a rat and had never been able to restore herself.  Peter had done it, however, which meant that it could be done, and she had caught a few glimpses of how he had been able to do it—a mix of Transfiguration and Charms, a little bit of the essence of the shape to be adopted, but there had been a lot more to it than that.  She made a note to herself to check up on that in the library.  She realized with a wry laugh that she was starting to sound like Giles—_I'm sure my books and I are in for a fascinating evening together._

      She had other things to do first, however.  She was out of the boat before the boat had even fully pulled in to the dock.  Hagrid shouted out a quick reproving word, but Willow was already dashing down the pier.

      Her first thought was that Dumbledore himself would want to know.  However, as she wound her way up to the castle, she found herself thinking that was probably not a good first option.  Dumbledore was always busy.  In addition, while this Peter was clearly a dark wizard, Willow wasn't sure exactly how special that was—was it not a big deal unless three or more were together?  Were there dark wizards disguised as rats all over the place?  Yet the way Ron and Hermione had reacted, combined with what they had told her about Peter being the one to betray Harry's parents, combined with what she had heard about Harry over the last two weeks—he did seem to be in the news a lot—made her guess that this was something she should at least go to a professor about, if not Dumbledore himself.

      Then it hit her.  Lupin.  A Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, one that she had developed a modest rapport with over three days, and that Hermione had said had been one of the people to capture Peter originally.

      The Centaur Speed potion had long since worn off by the time she reached his office and knocked at the door, and she was panting for breath.  She had not run very far in a long time.

      He opened the door slowly, in his typical casual manner, then saw the state she was in, and his eyes widened.  "Willow, what happened?"

      "We were attacked at the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade," Willow answered breathlessly, "by a rat named Peter."  That was as much information as she could get out in a few words.  She realized it sounded ridiculous, but she hoped it would do the trick.

      _"What?!"_ Lupin exploded.  Willow nodded inwardly.  It had done the trick.  "Is anyone hurt?  How long ago?  What happened?"

      "Listen," Willow said, "he ran down a passage out of the Shack.  We didn't follow in case it was a trap, but Hermione said it led to Hogwarts."

      Lupin's eyes had grown wider with every word.  "It does," he admitted hastily.  "Hermione?  Who else was with you?"

      "Buffy and Ron," Willow answered quickly.  "They're OK, they fought him off, but he ran this way.  It was probably forty-five minutes ago now, at least."

      "He could easily be here, then," Lupin growled.  He strode to the fire, grabbing a handful of green powder from a pot on the mantle and casting it into the flames.  "Minerva!  Severus!" he called.

      A floating, almost holographic orb appeared in the fire, eventually resolving into the familiar face of Severus Snape.  A moment later, it shrank and moved to one side to make room for the forming image of McGonagall's stern visage.

      "Yes, Lupin?" Snape asked with a thinly veiled sneer.  Apparently Snape and Lupin did not get along so well.

      "What is it, Remus?" McGonagall asked a moment later.  "A conference call from you, it must be important."

      "Two of each of your students were just attacked in Hogsmeade," he said, "by Peter Pettigrew.  I thought you should be the first to know."

      "Let me guess," sneered Snape.  "Summers and Rosenberg."

      "Hey!" Willow said.  They didn't get in that much trouble; in fact, they hadn't gotten in _any_ trouble, except the incident that no one counted when Buffy accidentally flew down into the dungeons saving Torrence Appleby.

      "And if I might make so bold," McGonagall said with a sigh, "I might guess Miss Granger and Mister Weasley."

      Lupin actually smiled.  "As knowledgeable as ever about your charges, I see."

      "Let it pass," McGonagall said with a shrug, suddenly all business.  "What happened?  And is that Miss Rosenberg I hear with you?"

      "It is," Lupin said.  "She's just started giving me the details, I thought you might like to hear them, too."

      "Are the others with her?"

      "They are not, unfortunately," Lupin said, turning once again to Willow.  "Minerva raises a good point," he said.  "Where _are_ the others?"

      "Still in Hogsmeade," Willow answered.  Then, more hesitantly, "Uh … do I need to speak right into the fire?"

      "We can hear you just fine, Miss Rosenberg," Snape said impatiently.  "Continue, please."

      "There was only ten minutes to get to the train from the Shrieking Shack, and Ron couldn't make it walking, so the others stayed behind with him," Willow admitted.  "He had a concussion.  They're bringing him as fast as they can safely manage."

      "I see.  And how did the fight end?" McGonagall asked.

      "Buffy fought him, and he escaped in rat form down a secret passage that we didn't know was there.  Buffy sealed him inside with a Terrandictus Charm before Hermione told us the passage led to Hogwarts."

      "He's here?" McGonagall asked, surprised.

      "Unless the passage has another exit."

      "It doesn't," Snape and Lupin said together.

      "I'll send a message to Dumbledore and alert Alastor at once," Minerva said.  "And Hagrid, too.  You said he came here in rat form?"

      "Yes, professor," Willow replied.  Now that the rush of telling someone, anyone, was out of her system, she was beginning to shrink back to her more demure, normal self.  In addition, she was in a hurry to get away.  There was one more person that she believed would want to be told.  She hoped they wouldn't forbid it to her.

      "Excellent," McGonagall said, and a feral grin split her face.  "I do believe Hagrid keeps some rather interesting creatures that eat rodents."  Willow's eyes widened, and she suddenly understood why McGonagall was the head of the warrior House.  That even brought a grin to Snape's lips, though seeing how he looked when he smiled, Willow decided his perpetual scowl wasn't that ugly after all.

      "All right," Lupin said.  "We've got work to do.  None of the others were hurt, Willow?"

      "No," Willow asserted.  "Hermione was shaken up a bit, and Buffy was fine.  I stayed out of the fight."

      "A wise decision, Miss Rosenberg," McGonagall said, with a look that reminded her that the teachers knew of her past.  "But Buffy!  Fighting off a Death Eater after only three weeks of study!"  She looked visibly impressed.

      "Peter Pettigrew was never the mightiest of foes, Minerva," Snape countered.

      "Oh really?  Well, if you don't want her, I've said before that I thought Buffy would make an outstanding Gryffindor …"

      "I think she's just fine where she is," Snape said with a smirk.  "And Lupin, remember to take your potion tonight."  The image of his face winked out.

      McGonagall laughed, and though Willow couldn't see the woman's shoulders, she had a feeling the woman had just given a sheepish shrug.  "Worth a try," she said.  "Thank you for contacting me, Remus."

      "Of course, Minerva," Lupin replied politely.  McGonagall's face vanished a moment later.

      "That was a very brave thing you did, Willow," Lupin said after the smoke cleared.

      "What, coming to tell you?  It was kind of …"

      Lupin waved her to silence.  "No.  I meant not getting involved in the fight.  That took a lot of trust in your friend."

      "Well … I did worry, kind of … I mean, I would sort of think most people would want a friend to help them in a fight …"

      Lupin laughed.  "Usually.  Actually, most people would probably like their friends to help them avoid fights.  But I think we both know that your case is a little special."

      Willow swallowed and nodded.

      "And now," he finished, "I believe you'll probably be wanting to go tell one more special someone about today's events."

      Willow looked up, and flushed.  "Does everyone know?" she asked hesitantly.

      "Everyone?  Know what?  First, no.  Second, I don't think there's anything really there to know yet, is there?"

      Willow flushed even more.  "Well, no, but still … how did you know?"

      Lupin laughed wistfully.  "I see Harry didn't tell you all about me.  Everyone always seems to say 'werewolf' and omit the other details.  I counted Harry's father and godfather among my best friends when I was a Gryffindor, long ago.  Both are dead, and Sirius died childless.  It's likely I will, too.  Harry will be the only memory of us left.  We keep in touch with one another."

      "Oh."

      "It's all right," Lupin said sadly.

      "I'm sorry, anyway.  But … does he … say anything about me?"

      Lupin laughed uproariously.  "Now, now, that would be telling, wouldn't it?" he chided.  His smile was kindly, and he couldn't hide a warm and youthful twinkle behind his eyes.  "Besides, I think it would be better if you asked him yourself, wouldn't it?  I don't think you need to worry, though.  He certainly speaks very well of you."

      Willow smiled, and a warmth that she had not felt in some time returned to her stomach.  She made her way to the door, and added in parting, "he speaks well of you, too."

      Despite the news she was sending, she nearly skipped to the Owlery.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **AUTHOR'S NOTES:**  Thanks again to _ShawThang, Peanut Gallery, ShadowElfBard, Tiger Tiger2, EdenMalfoy, unknown reviewer, Jedi Buttercup, WW, Kandice, _and _NoAlias_ for your feedback!  You guys rule!

      **COMING SOON:** Chapter 18, "Who Let the Dog Out?"  The search for Peter does not begin as smoothly as hoped.

      **SNEAK PREVIEW: **

****

_      "You'll never believe what just happened," she breathed._

_      Willow's eyes widened and her jaw dropped as Buffy explained what had happened._

_      "So there could be _another_ Death Eater inside the castle?"_


	18. Who Let the Dog Out?

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 18:**

**      WHO LET THE DOG OUT?**

      Buffy, Ron, and Hermione all reached Hogwarts safely; they had gone slowly and kept an eye out for any other sign of danger, but none had been forthcoming.  Ron's head recovered quickly, and he had insisted that he was fine; in fact, he had put on a convincing enough show of it to convince Hermione to let them go back to the Three Broomsticks for their Honeydukes bags.  By the time they returned to Hogwarts, all Ron needed was a quick checkup from Madam Pomfrey, and he was cleared to leave with the promise not to strain himself too hard and to take care of his head.

      "'course I'll take care of it, I haven't got a spare," he had promised her.

      The news that a Death Eater Animagus in the guise of a rat could be scampering around the Hogwarts grounds had spread quickly.  Mostly these were accompanied by earnest warnings to get out of the way of Professor Moody whenever he came by; the wooden-legged ex-Auror had been stalking the hallways ever since the word got out, his magical eye glaring in literally every direction.  However, mercifully, Buffy and Willow's names had not been mentioned in connection with the news; all the news said was that a Death Eater had somehow gotten through.

      Buffy and Willow sat together as usual at the Slytherin table that night, both arriving early and taking double their normal portions.  Hermione and Ron entered a few minutes earlier, both looking as if nothing had ever happened, though Ron gave Buffy a brief smile of gratitude as the two Gryffindors made their way to their seats.

      "Did you write Harry?" she asked.

      "Of course.  Did you write Draco?"

      "Not yet," Buffy admitted.  "Still having trouble with what I want to say.  I'll do it later tonight."  The warning Draco had given her about Hogwarts not being safe had returned to her memory shortly after they had been away from the attack.  She wondered if he had been trying to warn her of Peter's presence somehow, but she guessed he would have been more specific had that been the case.

      "All right.  Studying later?"

      Buffy rolled her eyes.  "You're going to turn me into a little Giles, you know?"

      "So I'll see you at eight?"

      "Sure," Buffy breathed.  That would give her more than enough time to compose a letter to Draco.  She headed back to Slytherin Tower, got out a quill and parchment, and thought of what to say.  Eventually, painstakingly, she wrote.

      _Draco,_

_      Had my first battle with a Death Eater today … an Animagus named Peter Pettigrew.  Will caught him spying on us at Hogsmeade.  Wasn't as bad as I thought, but was still tense.  Anyway, you've probably heard this part, but he got away and people think he's made it into Hogwarts.  I'll let you what comes up.  Hope whatever was going on at home is close to being worked out.  Come back soon.  Miss you._

_      Buffy_

_      P.S. If you don't answer my other letters soon, I'm going to start thinking you don't like me._

      She sighed as she went to the Owlery and let the owl go.  The ending had been a little more emotional than her previous two; she had never told him outright that she missed him before.  She wondered what he would say to that.

      _Probably'll be even less likely to write now,_ she thought glumly as she descended from the Owlery and instinctively headed in the direction of Lupin's office.  It was getting close to eight.

      Suddenly, as she hit the last set of stairs before Lupin's office, she spotted a tiny dark stain on the floor.  She bent down to look at it, but she was already sure in her mind; she had seen similar stains far too often.  There was another a few steps farther down.  She began to run.  The trail led directly to Lupin's office.  Without thinking, she burst open the door and strode in, wand at the ready.  Her mouth dropped, and she backed out of the room.

      "Professor!" she screamed.

      The office lay in ruins, and it looked like there had been a ferocious fight of some kind within.  The desk and several bookshelves had been destroyed, and everything on the mantle and several other shelves had been cast around the room.  There were several spots of blood on the walls and floor, and even one on the ceiling.  However, Buffy also spotted tufts and patches of fur lying on the ground, and she cursed herself for not remembering.  Tonight was the night before the full moon, the first night since she'd been here that Lupin would have turned into a werewolf.

      The sound of running feet reached her ears a moment later, and she recognized the clunking of Moody's wooden leg.  A moment later, the one-eyed professor burst into view, wand at the ready, moving much more quickly than Buffy would have believed possible with that leg.  His eye was already pointed through the wall into Lupin's office.

      "Bloody hell!" he roared as he drew even with the door and could focus both his eyes on the scene within.  He darted into the room and saw the wreckage of everything above the fireplace.  That didn't stop him, however.

      _"Accio Floo powder!"_ he snarled, and a handful of powder lifted itself from the wreckage on the floor and flew into his upturned palm.  He threw it on the fire.

      "Minerva!  Snape!  Lupin's office, _now!_"

      Shapes began to take form in Lupin's fireplace, and a moment later, a fully formed Severus Snape strode out of the fire, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he surveyed the room.  Minerva McGonagall followed a moment later, saying, "this had better be impor … oh, gracious!"

      "It had to be in the last few hours," Snape spat.  "It obviously happened after moonrise.  Not too late for a Recall Charm."

      Moody nodded, and cast some more powder in the fire.  "Flitwick!" he snapped.  "We need you!"

      "Coming, coming," Flitwick's teacherly voice answered as his form began to materialize in the fire.  A moment later, the tiny man stepped free of the fireplace, and gave a tiny, horrified squeak.

      "A Recall Charm, if you please, Flitwick," Minerva asked.

      "Of … of course," Flitwick said, his voice shaking.  His hands were steady, however, as he swept his wand around the room and chanted, _"Historia proxima, appareo."_

      A transparent image of Professor Lupin in human form sitting where his desk chair would have been appeared.  Buffy's eyes widened.  She was thinking of several times when she could have used that one in her Slaying duties.  _Historia proxima, appareo._  She made a mental note to remember that one.

      "A little forward," McGonagall said patiently.  Flitwick nodded and flicked his wand.  A moment later, Lupin began to transform.  Snape turned to glance at her briefly to watch her reaction, but she betrayed nothing; Lupin had told her he was a werewolf and she had seen Oz transform often enough to know what it looked like.  Snape shrugged and turned back.

      The Lupin illusion padded over and curled up by the fire, apparently going to sleep.

      "So he did take his potion today," McGonagall observed.  Flitwick nodded.  Snape scowled.

      "All right, a little more forward … right there!" McGonagall snapped.

      Lupin's head had risen again and he was looking toward the door.  A low, ghostly sound like a lock clicking reached their ears.  Lupin's ears laid back, and a growl escaped his lips.

      Suddenly, Lupin lunged, and it was clear that he was fighting someone.  Spells seemed to come out of nowhere in the air, attacking the wolf, throwing him around the room, and it was clear Lupin was hurt.  McGonagall's face was ashen.  Then Lupin managed to connect with something at around ankle level, and there was a high-pitched cry of pain that seemed to come from the air, almost as if coming up from the floor.  A moment later, another few drops of ghostly blood landed on the floor, as though the air had bled.  A moment later, Lupin darted out of the room.  It was impossible to tell if he was following someone or being chased.

      "What happened?" Snape asked.

      "Quite simple, really," Flitwick answered.  "Our intruder cloaked himself against the Recall Charm."

      "Can you break it?" McGonagall asked.

      "Of course," Flitwick replied, but his voice was somber, and he added, "in about three days."

      "Lupin will be back by then," McGonagall said crisply.  "We can ask him what happened."

      "We _assume_ Lupin will be back by then, Minerva," Moody said neutrally.

      "He'll be back."  McGonagall's voice was iron, but there was the faintest hint of a quaver beneath it.

      "And why didn't he come to any other teacher, then?" Snape asked.

      "And say what?  Aaroooo?" Moody interjected.

      Snape's mouth contorted in a snarl.  "It would at least have let us know something was wrong."

      "Come off it, Snape," the scar-faced professor growled.  "You know damn well how the little kids would have reacted if they saw a werewolf walking through the halls.  He's either found a way out of the castle, or he's hiding somewhere no one goes."

      "I think he'd have left," McGonagall added.  "He wouldn't want to get cornered, and that boy knows every secret passage in the castle that Potter and Black ever found."

      Snape grunted.

      "Minerva's right," Moody agreed.  "He'd head for the woods, if he could.  All right, I'll go look up Hagrid.  If anyone can find Remus, it's that dog of his."  Moody strode confidently from the room.

      "I'll inform Dumbledore immediately," McGonagall added brusquely, striding back into the fire.  She was gone a moment later.

      "I guess I need to get back to work," Flitwick mused.  He started for the fire.  "This had to have been young Peter."

      "No!" Buffy called suddenly.

      Snape and Flitwick turned to look at her.  Her mind was racing, replaying the fight she had just seen and comparing it to what she had seen earlier that day.  Things weren't adding up.

      "I think … I think it might be a good idea if you tried breaking the counter-charm," she said.

      "So you've learned so much in three weeks that you can second-guess professors, Miss Summers?" Snape asked coldly.

      Buffy turned to glare at him, but she spoke to Flitwick.

      "I fought Pettigrew earlier tonight.  If I know anything about fighting, that wasn't him."

      "Really?"  Flitwick actually seemed curious, like someone solving an enjoyable puzzle.  "Why not?"

      "That thing you just showed us included sound, right?  Including from the cloaked person, because we heard his cry of pain, right?"

      "It did indeed," Flitwick said, with a subdued note of pride.

      "So why didn't we hear him chanting?"

      "Ah, yes, well.  Chanting isn't completely necessary to cast spells," Flitwick explained, as though giving a lecture to an advanced student.  "The words help you focus your energy before you get used to simply doing it, but eventually you start just thinking them to yourself, and then just doing it."

      "But it's harder, right?" Buffy asked.  "Not as powerful?"

      "Well, not usually, no," Flitwick agreed.

      Buffy's mind was racing back to when she had fought Oz as a werewolf in the Bronze, and a handful of other werewolves she had faced since then, and she did her best to translate it into this new world.  However, judging by what Flitwick had just showed her, Lupin was powerful and agile even for a werewolf, and he would have been less out of control than normal ones.

      "Professor," she asked, "Do you believe that Peter Pettigrew could have fought off Lupin without chanting?  I don't think I could have, and I beat Peter earlier tonight."

      "Don't get so cocky," Snape warned, but Flitwick's face was thoughtful.

      "Perhaps …" he mused.

      Buffy suddenly remembered that she had promised to meet Willow, who would have remembered that tonight was the full moon and was probably waiting for her in Slytherin Tower.  "Anyway," she said hesitantly.  "I promised Willow I'd meet her at eight to study … do you need me to stick around?"

      "Oh, I don't think so," Flitwick answered sagely.  "Go study."

      Buffy nodded and bolted for the Tower.

      Willow was waiting for her in their dorm room.  She looked up a Buffy as if to say, 'you're late,' but Buffy spoke before her friend could say anything.

      "You'll never believe what just happened," she breathed.

      Willow's eyes widened and her jaw dropped as Buffy explained what had happened.

      "So there could be _another_ Death Eater inside the castle?"

      Buffy nodded.  "And one more powerful than Peter, if he can cast spells without chanting."

      "You know, I don't think that would be actually as hard as people here make it," Willow said suddenly.  "Everyone here just gets so used to doing it with words, and eventually they get to the point where they can't do it any other way, at least not without a lot of training, and usually only with a few spells that they use all the time."

      "Maybe we should try it then?  I mean, so we don't get used to it?"

      "I've been thinking that, too," Willow admitted.  "It's just that we've got so much to learn even _with_ words."

      "It could be really useful, you know," Buffy said.  "In the real, non-classroom sense of the word."

      Willow nodded.  "Maybe next week," she said.  She looked up and grinned.  "But I like to think that I try to skip around to useful spells, too, you know, when we're practicing."

      "Did you already have something in mind tonight?" Buffy asked.

      "Seemed appropriate," Willow said, tossing a handful of notes down on the floor between them.  The bold heading read _Locator Charms._

      "That works, too," Buffy said, a fierce note of approval in her voice.  "But wait … why don't the professors use these to find Peter?"

      Willow shrugged.  "Hogwarts is too big.  You'd have to be really powerful even just to locate something in Slytherin Tower without a piece of its essence, just working on a description or a picture.  If we get to the point where we can pinpoint missing socks in this room, we're doing good."

      Buffy grinned.  "Well let's get started, then."

                        *           *           *

      Buffy's sleep that night was troubled.  She saw Draco in a large, dark chamber, running around frantically, while an enormous stone face with cold, empty eyes looked on from the background.  Then she heard hissing, like Willow had done earlier, only darker and more sinister, and then it _was_ Willow's voice, and each time a hiss came, Draco would cry out, then fall to the floor, then get up again with a look of determination and venom in his eyes, only to fall to the cold, wet stone again.  Then the scene changed, and she saw herself lying on a cold, stone bench, Draco standing over her, laughing evilly, and then it was not Draco but an older man with long, flaxen hair, dressed in regal attire, though the laugh was the same.  For some reason she felt that she wanted to hit him but found that she could not move her arms, or any other part of her body.  The man smiled, a smiled which quickly transformed from cold to lewd to ghastly, until it seemed his face became little more than a parched skull.  Buffy tried to scream but for some reason could not.

      She awoke, gasping, her bedsheets drenched with cold sweat.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **AUTHOR'S NOTES:**  Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: _Fate, Cousin Mary, tiny, Judith, ShadowElfBard, Carmen, Destiny's Dragon, raven, Peanut Gallery, Anne, ShawThang, Tiger Tiger2, NoAlias, Kandice, _and _Jedi Buttercup!_  W00t!!  I'm not used to getting so many for one chapter … thanks!

      _ShadowElfBard:_  Don't worry, you'll definitely get your wish (to see Willow fight) eventually (and more than once). ;-)

      _Judith:_  You place me among select company comparing me to DKG and Lisette.  I'm honored.

      _Raven:_  After having read the most recent book, I agree with you, and I'm wondering if my reading of PoA was inconsistent.  My reading of that was that it was a short trip from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade, further than the station, so I had a short train trip from Hogwarts Station to Hogsmeade Station.  In the more recent books, however, it says that the children get off at Hogsmeade Station when they're going to Hogwarts.  I've been confused about this because, as far as I remember, the station was called "Hogwarts Station" or was at least not described as being within a village in the first three books.  The movie reinforced this perception … the station was pretty much right on the lakeshore.

      Suffice to say that for the purposes of this story, Hogwarts and Hogsmeade Stations are not far apart (certainly no more than a few miles), but are not one and the same.  It won't make a whole lot of difference as far as the story is concerned.  Hogsmeade is still situated within a fairly short distance of the castle as the crow (or broom) flies, but I figured it had to be far enough away to be out of sight (not just right across a lake, unless it was the size of a Great Lake) or it would be visible from the castle and hard to avoid at least mentioning in the first two books and the first half of PoA.  YMMV.

      _Kandice: _Bahamas cruise?!?!  I like you!!  I wish I had the time and/or money for something like that.

**      COMING SOON:**  Chapter 19, "Messages."  Buffy is not the only one having nightmares; Buffy has her Slayer dreams, but Willow is connected to the Heir, with all the dreams-of-the-Dark-Lord baggage that implies.

**      SNEAK PREVIEW:**

****

_      "He lives, then?"_

_      "Well, yes, my lord, but …"_

_      Willow felt rage and frustration burn behind her eyes, and a cold desire to teach this witless creature a lesson in the consequences of failure.  _"Crucio,"_ she said._****


	19. Messages

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 19:**

**      MESSAGES**

      Willow was dreaming.

      She realized she was dreaming, indeed, that she was having a nightmare of some kind, but could not force herself to awaken.

      She was seated in a chair of some kind in front of a roaring fireplace.  The room around her was cold, or at least her flesh was, and her breathing felt cold and dead.  She was angry about something, a cold, merciless anger that did not cloud her thoughts, despite that she had no control over her thoughts or her movements.

      A man appeared in the fire, and a moment later stepped out, twitching nervously.  It was Peter Pettigrew.  Willow's eyes betrayed no surprise, and when she spoke, it was not her voice, but a man's, or at least, something that sounded vaguely like a man's, only dark, powerful, and inhuman.

      "Speak, Wormtail."

      "It … it is done, my lord," he said.  "The wolf has been driven from the castle."

      "He lives, then?"

      "Well, yes, my lord, but …"

      Willow felt rage and frustration burn behind her eyes, and a cold desire to teach this witless creature a lesson in the consequences of failure.  _"Crucio,"_ she said.

      Peter screamed, and collapsed on the floor, twitching madly, obviously in terrific and inescapable agony.  He continued screaming until there was no breath left in him, at which time he began retching.  Willow felt her mind let go of the spell, and Peter stopped twitching and gasped for air.

      "Now," he said.  "Tell me of the fight."

      "I … I fought as hard as I could, but there were four of them.  My lord, please!"

      She felt curiosity, and a dark sense of triumph, burn behind her eyes suddenly.  "Four of them?  Do you mean that all four of them fought?"

      "There was nothing I could do, my lord."

      Dark suspicion, then red wrath, burned behind her eyes.  "I have no time for your lies, Wormtail.  _Imperio!"_

      Peter gave a frightened sob and snapped to attention as though he were a marionette that someone had just begun playing with.

      "Tell me the truth, Wormtail," Willow ordered.  "Did the witch fight?"

      "She … did … my lord."

      Willow felt a mirthless smile cross her face.  "You're fighting me, Wormtail.  I wouldn't have believed you capable.  How, exactly, did the witch fight?"  She felt her concentrate harder on Peter, demanding his obedience with her mind.

      "She uttered a counter-curse to my Sunburst, my lord."

      "And?"

      "That was all, my lord."

      A wicked laugh escaped Willow's chest.  "So that was how you were able to fight off the command.  There was some truth to it.  But tell me, truly, Wormtail, did you believe that means she really fought?"

      "I … no … my lord."

      "No, indeed."  Willow allowed her concentration to fade.

      "I … forgive me, please, master!"

      "You would seek my forgiveness?" Willow whispered dangerously.  There was a hissing sound in the darkness, and Wormtail gave a frightened whimper as a large poisonous snake slithered out of the shadows and into Willow's field of view.

      "I would, my lord, anything!"

      "Well, you may be in luck," Willow whispered.  "I do seem to be in a forgiving mood today.  Narcissa," she whispered, turning her voice into the darkness to her left.  A tall woman appeared, looking very much like a proud woman who had been taught a great deal of fear and humiliation in a short time.

      The woman swallowed, a look of fear in her voice.  "Yes … my lord?" she asked.

      "I merely wanted you here, Narcissa," Willow said, with frozen, forced patience.  "I was explaining to Peter that I can, at times, be forgiving."

      "Y … yes, sir."

      "Now, Wormtail," she continued, and there was ice and iron in her voice again.  "I could let you live.  You certainly have not been my greatest disappointment today.  Narcissa here was caught trying to warn her son of our plans for him.  Her success might have been much more damaging than your failure."

      Peter looked at Narcissa and then back again.  He licked his lips, searching for words to say.

      However, a cold, burning sensation had begun building behind Willow's eyes ever since she had explained what Narcissa had done, whoever her son was and whatever their plans for him were, which Willow realized she still did not know.  Willow raised her wand, and realized with a start that it looked exactly like her own when she wasn't dreaming.

      "Master …!" Peter squealed.

      _"_But I grow weary, and I certainly can't forgive two people in one day.  _Avada Kedavra," _Willow snarled.

      "NOOOO!!" Peter shrieked, and put his hands over his face.  There was a roaring sound like a jet taking off in the distance, and a burst of ghastly green light filled the chamber for a brief moment.  Willow caught a glimpse of the sitting room of a luxurious home as though it were illuminated by a camera for a brief moment.

      A moment later, Peter heaved a sudden breath, and looked at his hands, realizing he was still alive.

      Then he saw the prone, lifeless form of Narcissa on the floor in front of him, and backed away with a startled and somewhat queasy yelp.

      "Th … thank you, my lord," Peter managed weakly.

      "Now," Willow said dismissively, completely ignoring the body on the floor.  "We've received word that the boy will be heading to London soon.  There is a chance he might bring it with him.  Leave Lucius' agent in place.  Go to London.  If you can get him alone, get it from him there.  Kill him if you can."

      "I will, Master, I swear it."

      "And Wormtail," she said, with a diabolical grin, tapping her wand on her hand suggestively.  "Don't fail me again."

      Willow awoke, panting, in a cold sweat.  As her breaths steadied, she realized she wasn't the only one whose breathing in the room was abnormal.  Reflexively, still in a state of half-shock, she grabbed her wand from her bedside table and croaked _"Lumos!"_  Light filled the room.  There was no one else there.  The breathing was coming from the bunk above her.

      "Buffy?"

      "Yeah," came a heavy whisper from above her.  "Nightmares.  You, too?"

      "Want to compare notes?"

      "Actually, I was going to ask you if you knew any sleeping potions yet, but we can do that first."

      Willow listened as Buffy explained what she'd dreamt the previous night.

      "I really don't like it, it really felt like one of my old Slayer dreams," she finished.  "I haven't gotten one that felt like that since we came here."

      "That's bad," Willow admitted.  "Mine was worse."  She proceeded to tell about what she had seen.

      "It was so real," Willow finished.  "Except that I've never even heard the name Narcissa, and never used magic like that.  The power!  Buffy, whatever I was using, it was far away stronger than anything we've done yet.  Whatever those spells are, they aren't in _any_ of our textbooks, they're not even mentioned in passing."

      "It sounds like they're things we shouldn't be messing with," Buffy noted cautiously.

      "I know," Willow admitted.  "But listen, do you think there's anything to them?"

      "Knowing us?  I'd be surprised if there wasn't," Buffy sighed.  "Don't they have a teacher for this kind of thing here?"

      "Firenze is away in the forest for the summer," Willow explained.  Hermione had mentioned something about it, even though she'd had no intention of taking Divination again.  "And I'm not sure even he would know anything about these.  Most of the dream-interpretation stuff I've read here so far is pitiful."

      "Wonderful.  So my second question … know any sleeping potions?"

      Willow laughed, though it hurt, since she was sporting a bit of a headache.  "It'd be time to get up by the time they were ready.  It's already five."

      Buffy pouted.  "It's Sunday, we can sleep in."

      "Plus, I'm so shaky at the moment, I doubt I could mix it right.  I could end up giving us more nightmares, or we could end up sleeping until fall."

      "I could go with the last one," Buffy said, but accepted what Willow was telling her.  "All right, I'm going to go for a flight, then.  See you at breakfast?"

      "Sure," Willow answered, and Buffy grabbed her broom and walked out of the room.  Willow noted that Buffy had to have been a little shaken, too, if she was taking the stairs to the roof to get started; for the last few days, she had taken to jumping straight out the window.

      Willow sat on the bed for a while afterward, lost in thought.

      _Crucio.  _

_      Imperio.  _

_      Avada Kedavra._  

      She had a feeling she was supposed to know those from somewhere.  But she also had a feeling it wasn't the kind of thing she was supposed to simply ask a teacher.  Which meant she was going to the library at five o'clock on a Sunday morning.  She groaned, trying to clear her head.  

      She had to transfigure three cups of water into espresso before she was ready to go.

      Nearly three hours later, she felt like she could have done with another three cups.  She had looked up the most advanced hexes, curses, and jinxes she could find, and couldn't find them anywhere.  She cast a glance at the gate to the restricted section, but turned away a moment later.  It was time for breakfast.

      Buffy was waiting for her at the Slytherin table, looking much better after a relaxing flight and shower.

      "Any luck?" the sunny-haired Slayer asked.

      "Nothing on either dreams or those curses," Willow admitted.  "Maybe we're both just going crazy."

      "We'll get it eventually," Buffy said comfortingly.  "Even Giles took longer than three hours to find things most of the time, and he's been doing this for longer than both of us combined."

      Willow nodded glumly.

      Buffy perked up a moment later.  "Ooh, mail!" she said, as owls began fluttering in.  "I get to expect a letter from Draco for another few minutes and then get really disappointed all over again.  Someone likes you, though."

      A beautiful, snowy white owl had just dropped a letter in front of Willow, and she smiled, recognizing Harry's owl, Hedwig.

      A moment later, a handsome eagle owl landed in front of Buffy, dropping a letter sealed in a very important-looking, calligraphic "M."

      Willow smiled.  She felt better already, both for receiving a letter from Harry, and for Buffy receiving something as well.  She cracked it open.  They had not bothered to go hide to open their mail in a while.

      "You go first," Willow said.  "You're more important today."

      "It's from Draco!" Buffy said in a hushed but excited whisper.  She cast a glance around to see if she had spoken too loud, but they were two seats away from the nearest other person and no one seemed to be paying them much attention.  Then, a moment later, her face clouded momentarily.  "Looks like he's going to have to stay there another week or two, at least."  Then her eyes suddenly brightened.  "And he says he might like it if I came and visited!"

      "Going home to meet the parents already?" Willow grinned slyly.  "I think you might have made quite an impression."

      "Meet the mother, anyway," Buffy said with a shrug.  "And he doesn't say when.  But I'll have to think about it, anyway.  Remember why I'm here."

      Willow frowned.  She couldn't argue against that without revealing more than she wanted to say in public, but there was no reason Buffy shouldn't go; the original plan had been for Willow to come to Hogwarts alone.

      "Maybe," Willow answered noncommittally.  "Now let's see," she said.

      _Willow,_

_      Thanks for the letter, and thank God you're all right.  And good job finding Peter.  Spotting Animagi isn't easy.  I don't know how much Lupin told you, but he was right that I'd want to know … Peter was a Gryffindor and was friends with my father, godfather, and Lupin when they were at school together.  My parents' location was magically shielded from Voldemort until Peter betrayed them and framed my godfather, Sirius Black._

_      I imagine Lupin said something about it being a good thing I wasn't there.  Judging by the ugly burn mark on my wall right about now, he's probably right, but I still wish I had been._

_      It sounds like you had a lot more you wanted to tell me.  Well, this may be kind of short notice, but I'm going to London tomorrow with my aunt and uncle for two days.  If you wanted to come up on Wednesday, the fare's on me, and I'd really enjoy it.  I'm sure my aunt and uncle would like to get rid of me for a little while, too._

_      If it's not completely too much, I'd even like to take you out to dinner._

_      Hope to hear from you soon,_

_      Harry_

_      P.S. Tell Buffy I send her a big, happy thank you._

"Willow, that's awesome!" Buffy burst out as soon as Willow finished reading and passed her the letter.  "Well, the last part, anyway."

      "What, the big, happy thank you?"

      "No, silly, the dinner and trip to London.  You _are_ going, aren't you?"

      "Just for one day?  And whatever happened to you keeping an eye on me?"

      "I'm sure Harry will do that just fine," Buffy answered with a sly wink.  "Besides, it will give me a chance to study a little on my own for once.  Maybe close the gap a little."

      Willow flushed scarlet.  "Well …"

      "Willow, I don't care if I have to tie you up, pack you in a box, and drag you, you're getting on that train."

      Willow smiled, and the warmth she'd been feeling since opening Harry's letter bubbled over.  She stretched her arms over her head with a pleasant sigh and grinned.  "Well, if you insist …"

            *           *           *           *           *

      **AUTHOR'S NOTES:**  Thanks again to everyone who reviewed: _Rosemary the Rubix Cube, Draco-FutureBF, Kandice, ShawThang, Peanut Gallery, Dragon Star, Silver Warrior, Carmen, ShadowElfBard, Jedi Buttercup, _and_ Tiger Tiger2!_  As always, you guys rock my world!

      Let me also give a shout out to everyone who has me on Author Alert!  I know not all of you are the reviewing type, but thanks for keeping a watch out for my updates, too!  Good to know people are enjoying this and paying attention.  Makes it feel like it isn't _such_ an enormous waste of time …

**      COMING SOON:**  Chapter 20, "Dinner in Atlantis."  I'm always surprised by which chapters generate a lot of feedback and which ones don't, but chapter 20 will be the favorite chapter to me of the ones you'll have seen with the exception of chapter six.  Harry and Willow go out on a date in Diagon Alley, out to the parts of it that aren't just for wizard kids shopping for school supplies.  The evening ends with a bit of dress-up, dinner, and a little surprise.

**      SNEAK PREVIEW:**

      No sneak preview for this one!  You'll just have to be patient. :-P

      (I love this job!)


	20. Dinner in Atlantis

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 20:**

**      DINNER IN ATLANTIS**

      Willow stepped off the train at King's Cross on Wednesday morning with butterflies in her stomach.  She checked her watch.  They were right on time.  She got off nervously and looked up and down the platform for him.  He wasn't in sight.  She was disappointed, even though she still had no idea what she was going to say to him.  She walked once up and down the platform.

      "Glad to see you made the train this time," a voice behind her said.

      She jumped, spun around, and put a hand over her heart.

      "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Harry said.

      "No, no, it's fine," Willow said, forcing her breathing to steady.  "It's good to see you again.  I've just been kind of … well, dreading this for two days."

      "Dreading what?"

      "Oh, never mind.  So, where are we going?"

      Harry smiled.  "Diagon Alley, of course.  Where else?"

      "Well, I was thinking we might want to try … well, Muggle food."

      Harry laughed, and gave a mock-formal bow.  "Fear not, fair lady, all has been arranged.  There's a few great Muggle-food restaurants in Diagon Alley, they serve it like it's from another country.  Besides, I don't really have much Muggle money."

      "Oh.  I guess I don't either, at that."

      "Ah yes, but you're not the one paying tonight," Harry grinned, taking her hand to help her through the barrier off of platform nine-and-three-quarters.

      "It's OK, you don't have to …"

      "I know I don't have to," he cut her off softly.  "I want to."

      "Well … OK then."

      They took the Underground for a few stops, then turned and walked through the Leaky Cauldron.  Harry moved the blocks, and the archway opened onto the mystical mall of Diagon Alley, crowded with summer shoppers and tourists.

      "So … are we eating now?" Willow asked hesitantly.

      Harry looked at her.  "If you want, we can … I was thinking it's a little early."

      "Me, too."

      "Anyway, I need to go to Gringott's to get some more money.  I was hoping I could get away from Uncle Vernon earlier, but it didn't work out."

      "That's fine, I could use a little extra, too."

      "You have an account?"

      Willow hesitated, remembering how the Trust Fund worked.  "I hope so," she answered.  "I'll explain later," she said, noting Harry's look.

      They walked up the street towards the wizarding bank together, taking plenty of time to gawk at some of the unusual merchandise for sale in some of the shop windows and at some of the passersby, the mystical entertainers on street corners, and the different large posters announcing events that swirled and changed every few minutes, almost exactly like electronic billboards in the Muggle world.

      They reached the bank, and a goblin named Fangfinger took them deep into the earth.

      "Vault 687," Fangfinger announced as they drew alongside Harry's vault.

      Harry got out, took out his key, and walked over to the vault door.  It didn't look like anything different from Willow's own.  He shot Willow a quick smile as he clicked the key in the lock, and the vault door swung open.

      Willow's eyes goggled.  There was almost as much gold in Harry's vault as there had been in her own.  She had never heard that he had that kind of money.

      "Wow," Willow breathed.  "Is this something everyone knows about?"

      "Not hardly," Harry answered.  "My parents left this for me.  You and Hagrid, and maybe Dumbledore, are the only ones to see it in the last sixteen years."

      "Is it a Trust Fund?" Willow asked.

      "A what?"

      "I guess not."

      Harry took a small handful of gold and slipped it into his pocket, but Willow whistled.  How much was he planning on spending today?  It would be easy to get conceited by how much she had seen in the only two vaults—well, the only two public vaults—that she had seen in Gringott's but she knew that most wizards had nowhere near that much, or prices throughout Diagon Alley would be higher.  She fidgeted uncomfortably.  She prayed silently that her own vault would still have money in it.

      "Vault 664," Fangfinger announced as they drew alongside her own vault on their way back out of the catacombs.

      She took out her key, approached her vault, and slipped into the lock.  She looked back at Harry and gulped nervously as she turned the key.  The vault swung open.  Willow did not even look into the vault at first; she kept her eyes focused on Harry, trying to guess what she might see from his reaction.

      Harry's eyes bulged, and his mouth dropped open.

      Willow allowed herself a grin then as she turned to examine the contents of her vault, and her own eyes bulged as well.  The Trust Fund had grown.  There was more gold in places where there had chiefly been silver and bronze, and here and there, enormous jewels could be seen poking through the piles.  Willow caught a glimpse of a note pinned on the inside of the door.

      _I heard about Hogsmeade.  Well done, both of you._

_      -- A.D._

      She quickly pocketed the note before Harry could see it, but a brief surge of pride, and more than a little tinge of hope, went through her.

      "It looks like I'm not the only one keeping secrets here," Harry said.

      "I hope you weren't hoping to impress me with money," Willow said lightly, as she gathered a handful of gold about the same size as Harry had withdrawn and slipped it into her pocket.  She also pulled out a separate pouch and filled it as well; Buffy had asked her to bring a little more back to Hogwarts, just to be safe.

      "Of course not," Harry said, and Willow actually liked the slight tone of nervousness in his voice.  "I just thought that … well, you said you were new in our world."

      Willow understood.  She was new, and neither of her parents were wizards, so there would be no reason to think she'd have much in the way of wizard money.

      "It's a Trust Fund," she explained.  "Dumbledore set it up for us.  I don't really understand it myself."  She stopped short of explaining exactly how it worked; she didn't want to sound like she was trying too hard to win his trust—and she wanted to do that on her own.

      "Brilliant," Harry said, his eyes still wide.  "Well, come on."

      The rest of the afternoon passed like a dream to Willow.  Diagon Alley turned out to be a lot bigger than she had previously realized; the main shopping avenue was all in one area, but there were dozens of smaller shops scattered around, including several a short distance off the main road, every one holding something utterly amazing and unlike anything Willow had ever seen before.  

      There were theatres that used transfiguration and charms to create amazing props and special effects, cafes with a wider variety of delicious smells than could be found in Manhattan, and art galleries with paintings that all moved, and many of which spoke.  They passed lights and signposts in the wildest possible array of colors, and a giant three-dimensional illusion replaying matches from the Quidditch World Cup.

      The evening got even better as it wore on.  Willow was awed by a store that sold self-transfiguring furniture, and gave a short, embarrassing squeal of surprised laughter as Harry sat down on the opposite end of a plush, purple couch from her and it immediately shortened into a wide armchair with a suggestively curved seat.  Willow bought a box of Every Flavor Beans, and she and Harry took turns, between giggles, of levitating them into each others' mouths.  Harry bought her a handful of Surprise Seeds, which were enchanted flower seeds that grew to full bloom when touched and were always completely random; Willow gasped in surprise as a dozen pink and purple flowers, which she didn't recognize but which smelled beautiful, suddenly appeared in her hands.

      The most amazing part of the afternoon, however, happened when Harry drew her into a large, curtained-off corner of the most opulent art gallery they had visited yet.  An eccentric old man sat within, a small cauldron of a speed potion and a large easel next to his chair, and a small palette of colors in his hand.  He was just finishing painting a rather regal-looking middle-aged couple; the colors on his palette changed to whatever was needed and his hands blurred as he moved, but the picture was almost perfect.

      "Are we doing what I think we're doing?" Willow asked, remembering the paintings they'd been looking at all day, and the ones adorning the walls everywhere at Hogwarts.

      "If you'd like," Harry said with a smile.

      "Wow …" Willow breathed.

      Thirty minutes later, Harry was arranging for a small portrait of the two of them to be shipped back to Hogwarts, while Willow waved to the image of herself, which waved back enthusiastically and gave her a sly wink just before Harry turned around again.  Willow flushed.

      "Ready to eat?" Harry asked as they left the gallery.  Willow checked her watch.  It was approaching eight o'clock.  Where _had_ the time gone?

      "I think so," Willow agreed.

      Harry gave a secretive smile.  "Actually, you aren't," he said.

      Willow gave him a questioning look.  "I'm not?"

      His smile became even more annoyingly knowing, but his voice was soft.  "Close your eyes," he said.

      "What?"

      "Just for a moment."

      Willow gave him another questioning look but obligingly closed her eyes.  She heard him whisper something, but couldn't make it out.  Suddenly, she felt a spell wash over her, and she tensed, backed up a step, and snapped her eyes open.  Her footfall felt different and seemed to make a different sound than it had a moment ago.

      "What was that?" she said nervously, then goggled as she looked at him.  Harry was wearing a tuxedo!  Despite how out of place it looked on him, she instinctively noted that he wore it surprisingly well.  "Oh, wow," she said.  "But I'm …" she was about to say she wasn't dressed to go to anywhere formal, but remembered the sound of her footfall a moment earlier, and once the shock of the feel of the spell wore off, she began to feel something else different across her body as well.  She was already giving him an amazed look—though with no small amount of trepidation—as she looked down at herself.

      Her eyes opened wider.  Cordelia would have fainted of envy had they met at the moment.  She was wearing a long, sleeveless, form-fitting evening dress of midnight blue, with faint crystal beads that glittered like distant stars on the bodice, reflecting the light differently depending on how she moved.  A matching three-quarter-sleeved jacket hung open around her shoulders, so light as to be almost translucent, and also to avoid trapping any of the early July heat.  She put a foot forward hesitantly to reveal soft, three-inch leather stilettos on her feet.  Both her arms were sheathed in elegant opera gloves, and a thick triple bracelet of crystals matching those on her dress, only larger and more brilliant, adorned her left wrist.

      "Do you like it?" he asked hesitantly.  She looked at him again, and searched vainly for words to say.  There was no way she could answer that.

      Eventually, she simply smiled, giving him the most brilliant, content smile she could, and she saw his posture relax.  A warm, matching smile spread across his face as well.

      "McGonagall and Hermione have really been pushing me in Transfiguration," he explained modestly.  Then, somewhat less modestly, "I wonder if they'd let me turn you in for extra credit."

      "Hey, hey," she said, but there was no heat behind it.  She felt around herself as though trying to see if it were an illusion.  Then she realized he had affected her clothes, but nothing about her body was changed; she was still wearing the same hair she had worn all day.

      "Just needs one more thing," she said, fixing an image of herself in her mind.  _"Hygienis femina._"  Her hair drew itself up into a loose, elegant bun, and her lips and eyelashes darkened a fraction of a shade.  Harry's eyebrows raised approvingly, and Willow felt her stomach do a cartwheel, though it calmed much more quickly than she would have believed.

      "Beautiful," he whispered, and Willow grinned.  The actual sixteen-year-old her would have been utterly clueless here, but the twenty-one-year old in her knew he would have trouble taking his eyes off her tonight.  She found that the thought definitely didn't bother her.

      "Well, this is the place," he said, gesturing towards a restaurant just across the street.  A gold sign above the blue-and-white marble columns around the entrance read Atlantis.  As they crossed the street, she could hear soft music coming from within.  

      "Mr. Potter, I presume?  Private booth for two?" the waiter at the podium at the front asked.  Harry nodded.

      As the waiter led them into the restaurant, Willow's jaws dropped.  The room was two stories high, with light provided by floating crystal chandeliers that gave off a deep, ambient light that shifted every few seconds through a range of different aquatic hues.  Rows of unlit fish tanks lined the walls, with hundreds of varieties of fish, all of which had been enchanted to glow with a soft blue-green light.  Each table also sported a clamshell that glowed faintly, like a candle, in hues that changed along with the chandeliers above.  The furniture, carpet, and everything else about the place was polished and pristine.

      "Wow …" Willow gasped.  She had had no idea that he had meant a place like this when he had invited her to dinner; she had been picturing one of the cafes that they'd been passing all day.

      "It's been in the top five of the Daily Prophet restaurant rankings for the last five years," Harry said.

      "Top three," the waiter said proudly as he showed them to their seats, in a private booth in a row against the wall a short distance away from the rest of the dining room.  There were three glowing shells on this table instead of one.

      "Anything for starters?" the waiter asked.

      "A bottle of your best California white," Harry answered, smiling at Willow.  Willow shrugged.  Being from California didn't necessarily mean she liked California wines, but it was the thought that counted.  "And we'd like the Muggle menu, please."

      "Of course," the waiter said, walking away.

      "Have you ever eaten here before?" Willow asked.

      Harry laughed wryly.  "Are you kidding?  The best place I'd been to before this is the Three Broomsticks."

      Willow laughed as well.  "I guess we'll both be learning, then."

      They made small talk until their dinners arrived, and Willow looked mouthwateringly both at her own sautéed Muscovy duck and Harry's veal tenderloin.  Then Harry asked not to be disturbed for a while, and drew the curtains on the booth.  The three glowing shells on the table immediately brightened, and floated off the table to hover near the ceiling of the booth to make up for the lost light from the room outside.

      Willow looked at Harry questioningly.  "Are we talking about serious stuff now?"  She had known they were going to have to at some point, and she found herself thinking that doing so with a glass and a half of wine already in her might actually help.

      Harry shrugged.  "I'm not sure, I'm just being careful.  A lot of Ministry officials eat here and meet in these booths, actually, so they're soundproofed and warded against spying."

      Willow looked around.  It certainly didn't look or feel magical, aside from the glowing seashells, but she knew by now that that was hardly necessary.

      "I need to give you something," Harry continued.  He reached within his tuxedo jacket, withdrew a folded piece of parchment, and laid it out on the table.

      It was blank.

      "Are you saying I don't write enough?" Willow asked.

      Harry grinned.  "Hardly.  I love your letters."  Willow felt a small surge of pleasure at that, but Harry had already continued.  "This is more important, even though it wasn't meant to be."

      Noting Willow's puzzled expression, he withdrew his wand and spoke clearly, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."  Willow grinned at that, as it actually seemed to go well with the image of his impish face in a tuxedo, but then her eye caught the parchment.  It was no longer blank.  Willow gasped as a map came into view, a map with moving words and symbols scattered all across it.

      "It's a map!" she exclaimed.

      Harry nodded, with a mischievous grin.  "My father and his friends were called the Marauders at school.  Yeah, don't ask.  Anyway, they wrote this map after they started exploring all the secret passages and grounds of Hogwarts.  See here, here's Snape in his office, there's Buffy, everyone in Hogwarts is there.  Just about every secret passage is there, too, and if you go back to Hogwarts and approach the door to one, the password to open it will appear on the map, too."

      Willow's eyes widened.  "Pretty impressive," she said.

      Harry nodded.  "Dad, Sirius, and Lupin were getting pretty good by the time they wrote this, since they didn't start until their fourth year and they were among the best in the school.  Well, unless you count getting into trouble."

      "So … this is really great, Harry, but … why are you giving it to me?"

      Harry sighed grimly.  "I was going to give it to Lupin," he said.  "By _pure_ coincidence, Lupin happened to be attacked and driven out of the castle just before I could send it."

      Willow's eyes widened.  "So why give it to me?"

      Harry smiled.  "Because I trust you, and because Dumbledore and McGonagall may be being watched, too, and they're almost certainly too busy to make a trip to come get it."

      She sighed at the mention of his trust, but continued, "So what do you want me to do with it?"

      "Animagi show up on this with their real names.  Lupin used it to spot Peter before."

      Willow's mind clicked.  "So you were going to send it to him so he could do the same thing again," she said.  "But he got attacked."

      "Exactly," Harry said.

      "Thanks," Willow said.  "Um … do you mind if I show Buffy how to work it, too?"

      "Not at all," Harry agreed immediately.  "Just be careful when and where you use it.  Almost no one knows that map exists.  It could be really dangerous if a Death Eater got hold of it.  Also, to erase it, tap your wand to it and say 'mischief managed.'"

      "Right," Willow said, and was about to put it away, when something else occurred to her.  "Harry, if this shows where everyone is in the castle, why is Peter not here?"

      Harry sighed.  "Well, it could be he's simply not in the castle," he admitted.  "But there may be hidden places that aren't on the map.  In fact, I'm sure there's at least one, though Peter couldn't get there."

      "Where's that?"

      "Have you heard of the Chamber of Secrets?"

      "I think I heard about it in _Hogwarts: A History_," Willow answered, "but it didn't really say much about it."

      "It's a secret room that was put in by Salazar Slytherin when the castle was built, deep below the foundations.  The entrance is right there in that girls' bathroom, but you can see it isn't on the map.  Voldemort and I are the only ones to have opened it since Salazar, because you have to speak Parseltongue to open it."

      "Parseltongue?"

      "Snake language," Harry explained, looking at her warily for the first time.

      She returned his wary look.  How much did he know?  "You … you can talk to snakes?" she asked.

      "Does that bother you?"

      "Well, no … should it?"

      "A lot of people don't trust Parselmouths."

      "Figures," Willow said glumly.  She couldn't even pretend to be surprised.

      "Why?" Harry asked.

      Willow looked at him and concentrated.  She had never tried to do this before.  She touched the wand in her pocket for support, thinking the basilisk's fang core in there might help.  She took a deep breath, and hissed at him.

      "Because I just found out on Saturday that I could speak it," she hissed.

      Harry's eyes widened in shock, and she could tell he had understood her.  He looked at her wide eyed, and Willow felt herself growing nervous.  She wondered if she had made a mistake, though she knew she shouldn't berate herself for being honest.

      Harry took another gulp of wine.  Willow did as well.  A moment later a low, self-deprecating smile spread across Harry's face, and he raised his glass to her.  "You're full of surprises, Willow," he hissed back.

      "Thanks, I think," she answered in English, letting out an explosive breath that she hadn't realized she was holding.

      "How did you find out?" Harry asked.

      "Ron and Hermione got ahead of us chasing Peter.  We lost track of them, and I asked to no one where they'd gone, and a little garter snake pointed out the way to the Shrieking Shack."

      Harry grinned impishly, and shook his head.  "Too useful," he said.  "I accidentally set a python on my cousin at the zoo.  The snake thanked me before it slithered off for Brazil."

      "Harry!"

      "It was an accident!  Besides, the next time I did it was when I was trying to tell a cobra not to attack someone."

      "That's better."

      "How many people know?"

      "Know what?"

      "That you're a Parselmouth."

      "Just me and Buffy.  Actually, I don't think she even knows there's a term for it."

      "You didn't even tell Ron and Hermione?"

      "There wasn't a chance.  They were already fighting Peter when we got to the shack, then I had to run to make the train back to Hogwarts.  After that, I just forgot about it, thinking about Peter."

      "Thinking about Peter?"

      "What?  Oh, no, just something … well, you know how he turned into an animal?  I always thought it would be really great to be able to do that, but the last person I knew that turned themselves into a rat couldn't turn back.  Not that I'd want to be a rat, but … and I'm just babbling now."

      Harry laughed.  "No, no!  I understand.  My father actually learned to do it when he was my age, so he could be with Lupin when he turned into a werewolf, but I never really thought about it myself."

      "Really?  What did he become?"

      "A stag named Prongs."

      "Better than a rat."

      "Much," Harry agreed.  "And Sirius could become an enormous black dog.  It took them three years to learn to do it, though, and I've just never had that kind of time."

      "I get that," Willow answered.  "But it would still be awesome."

      "It would," Harry agreed.

      An uncomfortable silence followed, and both Willow and Harry took a few more bites of their dinners.  Willow got the distinct impression that Harry still had something serious he needed to ask.

      "What?" she asked.

      "Well, it was just … I mean … well, never mind."

      "What?"

      "It's not something you'd probably even know."

      "Well, all of this is pretty new to me, but I've picked up a lot."

      "No, not really a school question.  I've got Hermione for those," he added with a grin.  The grin quickly faded however.  "It's about, well, Parseltongue.  It's almost unheard-of.  I was wondering how you know it."

      The words of the snake in Hogsmeade came back to her.  _You are connected to the Heir._  Thoughts raced through her mind.  _Does he know about that?  Does he know that's what's required?  But wait … if he does … then that means …_

      "I only found out on Saturday," she answered.  "I never practiced it or worked any magic to learn it.  It just happened."

      "I was the same way," Harry said, but Willow noted something different behind his eyes.  For some reason, it reminded her of Tara when Willow had lied to her, when Tara had seen through her but had not said anything.  She sighed inwardly.  That was a mistake she could avoid making twice.

      "The snake told me it had something to do with me being connected to the Heir."

      A few wrinkles smoothed out of Harry's forehead, as though a headache had just vanished.  He took a deep breath, and Willow fidgeted nervously.

      She continued hesitantly.  "Is … the Heir … who I think it is?"

      Harry nodded wordlessly.

      "Figures."

      Harry took another deep breath, and another nervous sip of wine, then another deep breath.  He wore the look of someone with a lot to say but nowhere to begin.

      Willow spoke first.  "Does that change anything about … well, us?" she asked nervously.

      "What?  Oh, no, no," Harry answered quickly.

      "Harry … are you … connected … somehow, too?" Willow hoped she wasn't saying something horribly wrong.

      Harry's lips compressed, but his voice was level.  "I think you can figure that out."

      "Because he tried to kill you?"

      Harry nodded grimly.  "When his spell rebounded, it left a permanent connection between us.  Sometimes I can feel when he's truly angry, or excited.  Sometimes I even enter his thoughts in my dreams.  That was why I started taking Occlumency."

      Willow's eyes had grown wide.  There was so much in there, she didn't know where to begin.  "I had a dream like that on Saturday," she said, "or at least, I think so.  Were you in a room you didn't know, with people you didn't know, using magic you'd never heard before and all that?"

      "Mostly," Harry agreed.  He still seemed to be trying to continue the conversation with half his mind and size her up with the other.  "The places and the people, anyway.  I don't remember specific spells."

      "They were scary," Willow said.  "And powerful.  There were three of them.  Though maybe you already knew them.  They weren't in any of the library textbooks, though.  _Imperio, …_"

      Harry started bolt upright, his wand in his hands in an eyeblink.  Willow gave a startled yelp and threw up both of her hands, palms outward to show they were empty.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she cried.  "I wasn't actually using it!"

      Harry heaved several extremely deep breaths and finally lowered himself to his seat again.  He kept his wand in his hand.  Willow set her hands down on the table but kept them away from the edge to show that she wasn't reaching for her wand.

      "Let me take a wild guess what the other two were," Harry rasped.  "_Crucio_ and _Avada Kedavra._"

      "So you did already know them."

      Harry's eyes narrowed.  "They're called the Unforgivable Curses.  Using any of them on another human being is a life sentence in Azkaban.  The wizard prison.  Though, now that the dementors have revolted, I don't know what would happen—Azkaban isn't much of a prison anymore."

      Willow swallowed.  "Right," she breathed.  "Well, I wasn't using it."

      "I see that now."

      "I'm sorry."

      "It's all right.  Come to think of it, I've had all three of them used on me at some point, and I'm still here, so I guess I've been luckier than most people."

      "I'm sorry anyway," Willow added weakly.  She couldn't think of anything else to say.  She was finding it extremely difficult to think of anything at the moment.  A cold shiver ran down her spine.

      Harry smiled, and put a hand out to rest on Willow's, where she had left it near the middle of the table to show that she wasn't reaching for her wand.  "I'm sorry, too," he said softly.  "I overreacted."

      A flash of warmth spread up Willow's arm and throughout her body at that, but it quickly vanished.  For some reason, she found herself thinking of Tara.  Strongly.  The warmth of Harry's touch was fading, and her hand shivered.  The creases returned to Harry's forehead again, and she could tell that he was feeling whatever it was that he felt when she thought of Tara's bloodstained dress, her body crumpling in Willow's arms, the warmth flowing out of her onto the bedroom floor, the avatar of Osiris declaring the awful finality … _"It is done …_"

      "Willow?"

      She tried to break free of the reverie, but couldn't.  It was then that she began to realize something was wrong.  This flashback was deeper, more vivid, more sustained, and she couldn't force herself to break free of it.  She could feel the darkness reaching out to enfold her, the welcome void, the only surcease from the pain …

      Harry finally seemed to feel something as well, and his back stiffened.  "Bloody hell," he growled, throwing back the soundproofed curtain to a scene of chaos in the restaurant outside.  "Dementors."  His wand was in his hand, but his voice was distant, and the edges of Willow's vision were growing blurry and dark.

      Dementors?  What were they?  It didn't matter … all that mattered was Tara's body in her arms, and the mind-numbing, world-shattering voice tolling like a funeral bell …

      _It is done …_

_      It is done …_

      Despair, anguish, pain, loss, grief, all rose in a flood from deep within her; she fought to control them but somehow couldn't.  She tried to remember the things that had kept her sane, the people that cared about her, the people that she cared about, but for some reason those images were growing hazy, indistinct, dark.  Then they were gone.  She was alone.  No one cared about her pain, her loss.  No one would care how she hid from it.

      At her subconscious command, darkness and power surged forth from within her like a great black wave, washing over her mind and soul.  She drank deep on the intoxicating waters of oblivion once again, and let the Lethe-flood carry her away.

      _It is done …_

            *           *           *           *           *

      **AUTHOR'S NOTES:**  This chapter was one of my favorites to write … I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.  Imagining Diagon Alley as a kind of downtown Manhattan or Picadilly Circus (for our overseas readers …) of the wizarding world was fun, and of course, the long-awaited first date between Harry and Willow (which we should know better than to expect to go smoothly).

      Also, thanks again to everyone who reviewed my last installment!  I never get tired of reading those.

**      COMING SOON:**  Chapter 21, "Secrets."  Dark Willow is back, and Harry gets a firsthand look at the _other _side of everybody's favorite adorable computer nerd in action.  Just a little something she had forgotten to mention to him, no biggie, right?  … Right.

**      SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_      "You have an interesting wand," he said.  "I never really looked at it before.  Yew, thirteen-and-a-half inches, if I'm seeing this right."_****


	21. Secrets

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      **SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

      **CHAPTER 21:**

**      SECRETS**

      Willow was dreaming again.  It felt almost exactly like the dream in which she had dreamt she was Voldemort, though there was something different about this one.  She couldn't place it.  But she was dreaming that she was right where she had been, in the Atlantis restaurant, eating dinner with Harry, right when he had risen to his feet, drawn his wand, said something, and pulled the curtain back.

      People were milling about, all heading for the rear exit of the restaurant, but somehow, it didn't occur to Willow that she might want to run, too.  She was cut off, detached.  Willow couldn't understand why people were running, until a few seconds later, when the doors of the Atlantis burst open.  Peter Pettigrew strode in, flanked by four tall, eerie figures cloaked in black that covered all of their bodies save for scabrous, inhuman hands.

      She heard Harry's voice shout nearby, _"Expecto patronum!"_  However, Peter shouted something at the same instant, and a silver light that burst from Harry's wand scattered and flickered out.

      She heard Harry try again, and again Peter countered the spell.

      Willow felt her eyes narrow.  She realized that she could disarm Peter fairly easily.  Countering Harry's spells was taking all of his energy.  There was no way he could stop her as well.  But whenever the light burst from Harry's wand, the darkness around her roiled, and images of Tara swirled up through the darkness around her, disturbing her dream.  She felt herself wishing that Harry, not Peter, would stop.

      The cloaked figures had continued advancing into the room.  She felt Harry's will to fight next to her suddenly break.  The next moment, something seized her around the waist and tried to pull her away, following the rest of the patrons towards the rear exit.

      Peter aimed a spell at Harry then, but Willow didn't feel like allowing it to happen.  She realized that Harry had her around the waist.  If Peter was as utterly incompetent as he had seemed to her during his pathetic duel with Buffy that weekend, he might well hit her.  Of course, Harry's grip made getting to her wand impossible, as it was still tucked away in her dress, but that made little difference.  She had been practicing magic for years before she had heard of little toys like magic wands.  Peter's spell was snuffed out so quickly that his wand barely sparkled.

      "Stop her!" Peter cried.

      The nearest black-cloaked figures reached for her.

      _Sorry, whatever you are, but you're in _my_ dream_, Willow thought contemptuously.  An unseen gale lifted the two nearest creatures and piled them atop their fellows.  Willow smiled and closed her eyes as the power of the spell flooded through her.  That felt good.  She hadn't been able to do that in a long time.

      "Stop me?" she heard herself laugh coldly.

      "Willow!" she heard Harry calling, but it was distant, like all voices from outside one's vision in a dream.  He had let go of her now.  She stood alone.  As always.

      Peter picked up a large wooden podium with his artificial hand and flung it at her.  Willow's eyes widened.  She hadn't known the hand gave him that kind of strength.

      Willow vaporized the podium an instant before it would have connected with her skull.

      "Nice hand," she heard herself jeer.

      "The Dark Lord's gifts are powerful," Peter said in return.  He had such confidence.  Such bravery.  Such temerity.  Such foolhardiness.

      "I do hope it came with a warranty," Willow snapped.  She leveled a shattering thought at it, and it reverberated like a small gong, but did not break.

      Peter gasped, more in surprise than pain, but recovered a moment later.  He raised his hand defiantly at her, building a spell of his own.

      Willow found that annoying.  With a flick of her mind, she shattered the nearest fish tank along the restaurant's walls.  She let the water fall free, but held it together in a mass on the floor.

      Reflexively, Peter aimed a curse at it to burn it away, but Willow was faster.  She sent the water in a fountain into the air.  Most of it was evaporated, but she wasn't interested in the water, and she had gotten a fish into the air, and it was quite a mad fish by this point.  Willow grinned wickedly.

      _Engorgio_, she heard herself think.  There was no need for speech.

      A split second later, a piranha the size of a St. Bernard locked its jaws around Peter's wand and artificial hand, swallowing both whole.

      Peter let out a shriek to wake the dead, but it was still not enough to drown out a powerful laugh echoing around the room that sounded quite a lot like Willow's.  The fish fell to the floor, already dead, but Peter's arm was completely gone just below the elbow.  The screaming Death Eater fell back onto the carpet.

      Willow felt herself advancing, a deadly gleam in her eyes.  A curved dagger like a serpent's fang ringed with ghostly flame was in her hand.

      Peter screamed.

      _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_ a mighty voice behind her called.  A brilliant flash of white light erupted in the chamber, and a dazzling silver animal raced past Willow.  She reflexively threw up a shield around herself, but the animal was not aiming at her.  It was aimed at the gangrenous, black-cloaked creatures that were just getting to their feet again.  They were driven back out the door like leaves in a fierce wind.

      Willow suddenly felt herself backing up, her hands pressed to her forehead.  She could feel the sleepy darkness around her fraying.  Then Tara was there again, and all the memories that she had remembered just before … just before what? … then the darkness returned, only of a different kind, and she felt herself falling into a different kind of sleep, one untroubled by dreams or nightmares.  At the last moment before she lost consciousness, she felt something firm and warm wrap around her, then she knew no more.

*           *           *           *           *

      Willow awoke groggily.  There was quiet around her, and something soft beneath her.  She was lying on a cushion of some kind.  A moment later, she realized she was no longer wearing the evening clothes that Harry had made for her; they had returned to normal.  She opened her eyes tentatively.  She was in a modest bedroom of some kind, apparently on the third or fourth floor of a building, as she could see the moon, two days past full, high in the sky through the window.

      "Are you awake?"

      She rolled over to see Harry sitting in a small wooden armchair in front of the door.  His expression was unreadable.  Just about every emotion Willow had ever heard of, and some she couldn't even name, were flashing behind those deep brown eyes of his.

      "Yeah, I think so," she said.  She put a hand up to touch her ruined hair.  "I think I was having a bad dream."

      Not so much as a flicker of a smile crossed his face.

      "Harry, where are we?"

      He shrugged.  "Ron's brothers' shop.  The guest room.  They're out partying, but I have a key."

      "And why … why are you looking at me like that?"

      He looked at her incredulously, as if to say, _You don't know?_  Willow's mind raced.  Bits and pieces of her dream started to come back to her, then more.  Her thoughts picked up speed, and a horrible suspicion grew beneath them.  _Oh, dear Goddess … it wasn't a dream …_

      She turned and vomited noisily over the far side of the bed.  Fortunately, there was a wastebasket there.

      She turned back to Harry.  He betrayed as much reaction to her gastrointestinal antics as he might have to her waving hello.  The look of complete horror on her face as she turned to face him again, however, seemed to reach him.  He did not get up from his chair, however.

      He reached into his robe and drew forth his wand.  He left the fold of his robe open, however.

      _"Wingardium Leviosa,"_ he whispered.  Another wand floated out of his robe and hovered near his left hand.  He looked at it with undisguised trepidation.

      "You have an interesting wand," he said.  "I never really looked at it before.  Yew, thirteen-and-a-half inches, if I'm seeing this right."

      Willow nodded.  "You know your wands," she said.

      A humorless grin touched the corners of his mouth.  "No, I really don't," he said.  "But this one looks awfully familiar.  And when I touched it … well, I haven't seen a show like that since Fred and George set off several crates of enchanted fireworks in the school last year."

      "It recognized you?"

      "Almost like my own wand."  He did not seem happy at the thought.

      Willow slumped.  _You are connected to the Heir._  And so was he.  It shouldn't be too surprising, at that.

      "I promised Dumbledore I wouldn't talk about it."

      He looked surprised at that, and cast a furtive glance over his shoulder for some reason.  When he turned back to look at her, his face was thoughtful.  He clearly hadn't expected her to say that.

      A moment later, he added, "Then don't.  But please … I really want to understand here.  What I saw tonight … what I feel …"

      "I promised Dumbledore I wouldn't tell anyone about that wand, or where I got it.  I'll tell you anything else, I swear."

      He thought about that for a moment, then nodded.  "All right.  Why are you at Hogwarts?"

      She thought of that for a moment.  _Why _am_ I at Hogwarts?_  To learn magic?  No, she knew that.  To get her away from Sunnydale?  But that had been more her reason for leaving, not their reason for asking.  Demanding.

      "To learn to control myself, I think," she said.  "Control what I can do."

      Harry's mind worked.  "And what I saw earlier tonight was you when you _aren't_ in control?"

      Willow nodded morosely.  _I lost control.  Again._  "Pretty much," she admitted.  "Those … _things_ … came in, and for some reason, I couldn't think, I couldn't even _feel _…"  She shivered at the memory.  "Goddess, what _were _those things?"

      Harry relaxed a little.  Willow guessed that she might have said something he could relate to.  "Dementors," he explained.  "Horrible things.  They suck all the happiness out of people and leave them with the worst, most horrible memories of their lives.  They used to guard the Azkaban prison before they revolted and joined Voldemort."

      "But everyone else … I mean, they were afraid, but they just ran.  Why did I …?"

      "I used to be the same way," Harry explained.  "They affected me worse than everyone else.  I fainted the first time I met one.  Malfoy didn't let me hear the end of it for days."

      "But why?"

      His voice was ice over iron.  "Because my worst memories were worse than anyone else's.  I never met anyone who could feel them before me, or felt them worse than me, before tonight."

      "Oh, Goddess … Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up like that …"

      "No, it's fine," he said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand.  "I have bad memories I need to learn to deal with, too."

      "Well, I'm sorry, anyway."

      "I know," he said, with the first true smile she had seen on him since awakening.  "That's why I'm not making a big deal out of it.  And I know what it's like to lose control.  When Bellatrix Lestrange killed my godfather a few months ago, I lost it, too."

      "Did you kill her?"

      Harry was quiet for a moment, then said, "No, but I think I would have if I could.  I used an Unforgivable Curse."

      Willow's eyes widened.  Not only was that surprising to hear, that was a daring admission.  He had just told her earlier that night that that carried a life sentence in Azkaban, though with the war brewing, those rules might be loosened a bit.  Of course, he knew enough about her by now to know that there was no risk of her running to tell anyone.  Nonetheless, despite the suspicious distance he had put between them, that had to take a lot of trust to tell her.

      "Warren wasn't so powerful," she said bitterly.  "And … and I was."  That was the first time she had said his name in a while.  She noticed Harry flinch slightly again as the memory dredged up within her drifted across her mind.

      "Warren?" he asked cautiously.

      "The boy who killed my best friend," she explained, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper.  "I killed him."

      It was Harry's eyes' turn to widen.  Willow looked away.  It was the first time she had said that aloud since it had happened, even when she had been in Sunnydale and everyone else in the house knew.  Some of them had even seen her do it.  _I'm a murderer._

      "Were you going to tell me that?" he asked softly.

      "I … don't know," she admitted.  "I said more than I ever thought I would, earlier."

      "I did, too," Harry admitted in return.  "Ron and Hermione know most of it, but I don't even talk about it with them, much."

      Willow nodded.  "Buffy knows, but we don't talk about it much, either.  After I lost control, after I killed … well, I didn't come back once I … and then I started hurting people I cared about."

      "Buffy?" Harry asked.

      "Buffy.  Giles.  Just about everyone."

      "And she still came with you?"

      Willow nodded.  She had tried thanking her several times for that, but it had never felt like anywhere near enough.  "She didn't have to, but she did.  We … well, we'd never heard of Hogwarts, didn't know what it would be like …"

      "And she didn't want to send you off to some strange place in another country?"

      Willow nodded again.  "Dumbledore seemed like he knew she'd want to come from the beginning; he had letters for both of us."

      "Dumbledore delivered your letters himself?" Harry's eyes were wider at that than they had been when she had confessed to murdering Warren, drawing an involuntary smile from Willow.  She found herself thinking whimsically that she needed to have a serious chat with him about priorities sometime … if he ever felt like talking to her again.

      "Yeah," she admitted.  "Him and two other guys—a friend of his, and a really stuffy guy called Fudge."

      "Fudge?!"

      "Crazy, isn't it?"  She hadn't known what kind of title 'Minister of Magic' was when he had appeared at Buffy's house, but she had been reading the _Daily Prophet_ for a month now, and she had seen enough to get the picture.  "I didn't know who he was at the time, either."

      "Wow," Harry breathed.  "I never actually liked Fudge much, but that's still seriously not normal.  Just out of curiosity … who was Dumbledore's friend?"

      "It was an alchemist.  Nicholas Flamel."

      "Nicholas Flamel?!" Willow wouldn't have believed Harry's eyes could get any wider, but they did.  "You met Flamel?"

      Willow nodded, and it was then that she remembered that she had one more secret that she hadn't yet told him.  "He was there to give us a potion to help me and Buffy blend in at Hogwarts."

      "A potion?  Not Polyj … oh, wait a minute …" he looked at her again as if seeing her for the first time, and his jaw dropped.  He rose partially from his chair.  "You're not seriously saying …"

      "The Elixir Vitae?" Willow said.  "Nah, just a weaker version."

      "How … how old are you?"

      "Just twenty-one.  And I feel like I'm sixteen for real again half the time."

      Harry eased back down into his chair.  "'Just' twenty-one?  I'm only sixteen here, you know."  He breathed deeply.  "But still, I'm glad you aren't really seventy or something."  He looked at her then, a light, piercing gaze, and the grin spread back across his face.  "I'd hate to be growing this fond of someone old enough to be my grandmother."

      Willow nodded absently, then froze as the message behind those words reached her.  She looked up at him again, slowly, as if seeing him for the first time.  "You … what?"

      He laughed, seeing the shock evident on her face.  "Did you expect me to hate you?"

      "Well … I sort of didn't think you'd want to talk to me again.  Ever."

      His laugh took on a predatory note.  "Willow, when my father was at Hogwarts, he and Sirius were friends with a boy who turned out to be a werewolf.  There was no cure, not even a half-cure, back then.  Every full moon, Lupin lost all control … he became one of the most dangerous creatures in our world.  Dad didn't care.  Trust me when I say that he would have cut off his own arm before letting that stop him from being Lupin's friend."  His voice softened.  "And Lupin needed that.  Dad and Sirius' friendship helped take away a lot of the pain."

      Harry got up, slipped the wands back into his robe, and walked over to her.  He sat down beside her on the bed.  "From the day I first found out I was a wizard, people have been telling me I take after him.  I guess they were right."

      Willow turned to look at him.  Tears were welling up in her eyes, but the sadness in them was fading.  "So … you still want to be friends?"

      "Friends," he said softly.  Then, suddenly, he took her hand, and placed his other hand on top of it.  "Or something more," he said, still softly, but with far more force.

      Willow's heart jumped, and the tears that had been welling in her eyes flowed.  She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes; she just sat there, her hand in his, staring at her lap, at his hands, at the floor, letting the tears fall.

      "So … do you want to?" he asked, uncertainly, but with an undisguised note of boyish excitement and hope.

      She did not look up, but she had finished crying.  Suddenly, she began to laugh, softly at first, then louder.  She looked up at him, then, to see a warm—though confused—smile lighting his boyish features.

      "What?" he asked.

      With a last, delighted sigh, she scooted over and lay down against him, letting the feeling of being close to someone again wash over her.  It felt like forever since she had felt anything like it.  She looked up at him, smiling at the odd angle of his face from her vantage.

      "You're going to be a great Auror," she laughed.  "You're going out with one of the darkest witches in history."

*           *           *           *           *

      Dumbledore lowered his wand, smiling as he did so.  With a quick thought, he dispelled the X-Ray Charm that he had been using for the last few hours.  A moment later, Moody lowered his wand as well.

      "I thought that lughead gave us away for a second," the one-eyed wizard growled.

      "Perhaps," Dumbledore added.  A moment later, he added casually,  "You might want to turn both of your eyes back in my direction, Alastor.  I might think you're ignoring me."

      "One moment, Albus … our future Auror seems to be quite imaginative finding new punishments for dark witches.  I never believed tickling could be so effective."

      "Alastor," Dumbledore warned before Moody had finished speaking, though his voice was patient.

      "Oh, all right.  Spoilsport," Moody said, turning his artificial eye back towards Dumbledore.  A vicious grin split his face.  "She's the greatest danger in the building, isn't she?  So you can't blame me for wanting to keep an eye on her.  Constant vigilance!"

      "If you insist on continuing to look through that wall, you might find that young Miss Rosenberg is _not_ the greatest danger in this building," Dumbledore added pointedly.  He mouthed a quick Silencing Charm as he turned down the stairs; not a sound of his footfalls could be heard.

      "Your age is showing, Albus," Moody said as he followed.

      "And yours is not."

      Moody grinned roguishly.  "Yeah, I'm still deciding what I want to do when I grow up."

      "You know, I've never actually used the Impotence Jinx, I wonder how strong I could make it …"

      "Albus!"

      "Simply academic curiosity."

      "Let's keep it that way."

      "What happened down at Atlantis?"

      Moody was immediately all business.  "You cloaked the area against a Recall Charm.  Not even Flitwick could break through that.  People remember seeing Harry there, and Willow, but no one saw what happened.  A few people were perceptive enough to sense dark magic, but no one's going to look at Willow with Peter and four dementors around."

      "And Peter?"

      "Aurors are holding him now.  Dawlish talked to Snape by Floo; it takes a month to brew Veritaserum, but Snape started some couple of weeks ago just in case.  It's about half done."

      "And the dementors?"

      "Left by Floo at a place they broke into in Knockturn Alley.  Destroyed the fireplace behind them.  No tracing them."

      "The _Prophet_?"

      "Knows Peter's been caught, and that Harry was there.  I don't think they'll look much beyond that.  Oh, and they saw the fish.  That was one heck of an Enlargement."

      "So it was."

      "Albus, the hand?"

      "Oh, this?" Dumbledore wondered absently, withdrawing a gleaming silver hand from within his robe.  "Really, I know you like these kinds of things, but it's really not your color …"

      "Albus."

      "I'm putting it down in Gringott's tonight."

      "What are you going to tell Fudge?"

      "Probably hello.  Then probably goodbye."

      Moody grinned.  "That should about cover it."

      "For the moment, all Fudge will know is that Harry captured Peter.  It's what Peter might tell them that could cause problems.  Our good Minister is all too ready to believe the worst about Miss Rosenberg already."

      "I hate to get political about things like this, but Harry and Willow's … new relationship … might well protect her from that."

      "It might protect her from quite a bit more than that," Dumbledore agreed quietly.  "But I'll speak to Fudge tonight about this anyway.  It will be better coming from my lips than Peter's."

      There was a muffled thump from the ceiling above them.  Moody's eye spun upwards.

      "Alastor, if you don't keep that eye where it belongs, I'm going to have to give you detention."

      Moody grinned wickedly.  "You aren't just a _little_ bit curious?"

      "Come along, Alastor," Dumbledore said, continuing on his way to the door.

      "Aha!  See!  You _are_!"

      "I most certainly am not."

      "Oh, I think you are."

      "Am not."

      "Are too."

      "Am not."

      "Are too."

      "Am not," Dumbledore finished flatly as he clicked the front door softly closed behind them.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **AUTHOR'S NOTES:**  Thanks to everyone on my AuthorAlert list for sticking around with me for 21 chapters now!

      And thanks again to all reviewers!  Love you all!

      To all those reviewers that got a little kick about seeing Willow's dark side come to the fore again … well, there's some chance we might see that again eventually … ;-)

      To the several reviewers who expressed a desire for more Buffy/Draco attention, you'll get that, too, but this is a primarily Willow-centered fic; I generally think that the straight-up "Buffy at Hogwarts" angle has been done enough, and I always like to tell about the more minor characters.  My other [currently abandoned] fic centers on Faith; I've actually got the seeds of one started right now that focuses on Vi, that I might pick up in earnest once this one is done.

      **COMING SOON:**  Chapter 22, "A Punctured Soul."  Lupin returns, and Buffy gets _her_ first encounter with Voldemort's soul-sucking quasi-undead henchcritters.

**      SNEAK PREVIEW:**

****

_      Several hooded, cloaked figures were visible within the first few rows of the trees.  For some reason, the sight of them made Buffy's skin crawl.  Every so often, a ray of white light would flash from deeper in the trees, and the dark figures would flinch away from it.  Then they would move towards the source of the light, until it came again, when they would flinch away …_


	22. A Punctured Soul

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 22:**

**      A PUNCTURED SOUL**

      Buffy sat precariously on her windowsill.  It had momentarily occurred to her that there was no way open windows like this would be allowed at UC-Sunnydale, but she was grateful for it.  The night was cloudless, and the breeze was cool and refreshing.

      A shapeless mass of light hovered in the air in front of her.  Willow had taught it to her just before she had left, as a focusing exercise.  Maintaining it without releasing it built concentration.  Changing its color and shape built the capability for meticulous, measured thought.  Watching the changes occur, slowly, almost mesmerizingly, according to the ebb and flow of one's thoughts, also had a calming effect.

      At least, it was supposed to.

      With a frustrated wave of her hand, Buffy dismissed the illusion.  There was no settling her nerves tonight.

      Lupin had not returned.

      He should have been back on Monday morning.  He would have changed back into a human at daybreak.  He would have had to come back to get his potion.  But he had not.  Buffy had tried asking Moody about it on Sunday afternoon, but had gotten a noncommittal response.  Snape had filled in on Lupin's classes, much to the chagrin of the younger Defense Against the Dark Arts students.  Tuesday night had been the last night when Lupin would have transformed.  He should have been back Wednesday morning at the latest.

      It was Wednesday night … actually, Buffy thought, it was probably Thursday morning … and he still had not come.  Flitwick had encountered another layer of protection against the Recall Charm, something he hadn't seen before.

      A light out of the corner of her eyes caught her attention.  At first, she thought it nothing more than an after-image of her own spell.  But then it came again, and again … faint sparks of light in the distance.  It was coming from the Dark Forest.

      Buffy whispered _"Binoculate."_  Her vision streamed out in the direction of the woods.

      Several hooded, cloaked figures were visible within the first few rows of the trees.  For some reason, the sight of them made Buffy's skin crawl.  Every so often, a ray of white light would flash from deeper in the trees, and the dark figures would flinch away from it.  Then they would move towards the source of the light, until it came again, when they would flinch away.  The light came from a different angle each time, and the hooded figures moved with it.  With a mental leap, Buffy realized that they were moving to cut whoever was shooting that light off from the edge of the Hogwarts grounds proper, and the person shooting the light was running quickly from side to side, trying to break through the line.

      She pointed her wand sideways at her broom, across the room.  _"Accio,_" she said, not taking her eye off the scene.  Her broom leapt into her hands.

      Suddenly, whoever was shooting moved back in the other direction, and emerged into view a moment later … he did not make it out of the woods before the dark figures closed and drove him back, but he made it out to the third row of trees.

      It was Lupin.

      Buffy was in the air before she even knew what she was thinking, streaking towards the woods.  There would be no time to get anyone else; if no one else had seen what she had, then no one else would come.

      She made a beeline for the creatures, but suddenly found herself slowing down.  She could feel her bone marrow growing cold as she approached, and she was still at least fifty yards away.  For the first time, she wondered what exactly she was facing.

      "Dammit, pull it together, Slayer," she hissed to herself as she pushed her broom forward again.  A moment later, she swerved away again, gasping for breath as though she had just run a great distance.  The feeling got worse the closer she got.  It was like they were sucking all the warmth out of the air.  Or worse.

      "All right, Plan B," she growled.  It was time to go back to her roots.  At least, sort of.  She pointed her wand at the ground.  _"Accio rock!"_ she snapped.  A small boulder, at least a hundred pounds, floated into her hands.  She caught it like a beach ball.

      "Catch," she said with a predatory grin as she launched it at the cloaked figure nearest the edge of the woods.  It sailed fifty yards as if nearly weightless and crashed into the base of the nearest creature's spine, crushing it to the ground and rolling up its back, flattening its neck and head as well.  She noticed that the creature made no sound; were they mute?  Or did it have no time to cry out?

      The other creatures gave no sign they had even noticed the fall of their compatriot.  They continued working to cut Lupin off.  Buffy noticed with alarm that the rays of light from his wand were getting weaker.  A moment later, he was forced deeper into the woods and out of sight.  

      Buffy cursed.  Hadn't he seen her?  Didn't he know she was right there?  Then she saw what he had: more of the creatures, moving up along the edge of the woods from the other direction.  It looked like at least five more.

      She urged her broom forward and higher, to keep some distance between her and the creatures, but nonetheless get closer.  The forest was still thin enough that she could see the light from Lupin's wand through the branches, but if he retreated that much farther, that wouldn't be the case.  He _had_ to have seen her.  But even if he had, he couldn't know where she was, couldn't know she was following …

      Her mind flashed back to her duel with Peter.  _"Luminaris solaire!"_ she cried.  A brilliant burst of sunlight filled the night sky, just for a brief moment, but there was no way he could miss that.  With any luck, she thought, it might even catch some eyes at the castle.  _Thanks, you bastard, I owe you one,_ she thought grimly.

      A moment later, an answering light blossomed in the trees below, a simple _Lumos_ charm, but enough for Buffy to keep her eye on him better; either the things chasing him were blind, or Lupin was past caring.  The rays from his wand were getting weaker, and she saw the shadows as the creatures closed in.  They were moving more quickly and not flinching as much from his rays.  She wished she could hear what he was using, but the words were too faint to make out.

      A moment later, she came over a small clearing, and her mind raced.  She could make a dive for him if he came into the clearing, but from the movement of his light, he was going to pass several yards away from it.

      _"Lumos solaire,_" she said, pointing her wand at the clearing.  A ray of sunlight shone forth from her wand like a searchlight.

      Lupin's light began to move in that direction.  Buffy felt relieved for a brief moment, until two of the creatures following him began to move in that direction as well.

      _Dammit, they're going to cut him off!_ she swore silently.  _No, he's going to make it … no, he's …_

      _"Reducto!"_ she snapped, aiming at the base of a great tree at the edge of the clearing.  The tree shattered just above its roots, and collapsed with a thunderous crash across the path of the black-robed figures.  A moment later, Lupin appeared, running down the fallen tree trunk like it was a runway into the clearing.  

      Buffy dove.

      She was still too close; her hands started shaking on her broom as she got closer, and her vision clouded.  She wasn't going to be able to get to him.  She swerved back.

      Lupin leapt into the clearing.  The black-robed figures were right behind him.  He aimed a ray of light over his shoulder, but it was no brighter than a candle, and he was moving slowly, and shivering as he did.  The creatures didn't even appear to feel it.

      Lupin's legs gave out a moment later, and he fell to the turf with a weary, desperate cry.  The nearest creature reached up with one pale, cadaverous hand and pushed back its hood.

      Buffy fought the urge to retch, but she couldn't bite back a terrified scream.  The cadaverous face, if it could be called that, was uglier than any demon she had ever faced.  But the way it was leaning towards Lupin's neck was all too familiar.

      Time seemed to slow down, every movement, every leaf and blade of grass etched into Buffy's thoughts.  Burning with fear and anger and revulsion, Buffy dug deeper than she had she had ever dug, throwing all caution to the wind, burrowing into the deepest reaches of her soul for her last reserves of strength.  

      What she found there surprised even her.

      A wall somewhere within her spirit crumbled against her attack, and behind it, so deep within herself that for a few moments the world around her seemed to blur in a fog of color and sound, Buffy found a blazing well of power that she had never fully grasped, a fiery well of mystical vigor and pure predatory passion that she hadn't felt since dueling with Adam.  As soon as she touched it, it roared up through the rest of her body like a gale, and her eyes snapped back into focus.  The wind erupted around her as if stirred by the rising force within her, but she didn't even notice.

      _"Accio Lupin!"_ she roared, in a voice that rang from the very stones.

      The limp form of the professor tore free of the creatures grip and rose into the air.  Buffy swooped and caught him lightly, gasping in surprise and fright at the feel of his flesh; it was icy cold, colder even than a corpse … and she had felt enough of them to know.

      Her wrath only blazed higher.  She clutched Lupin with one arm and leaned her broom sideways to aim her wand downward with the other.  Her wand and the hand that held it blazed like a small star as she built her power again, and she could almost feel the wood and core quivering with anticipation.

      _This phoenix feather was soaked for three days in holy water imported all the way from Sunnydale._

_      Oak and phoenix feather make quite a fighter's wand to begin with._

      _"Iluvio ignis,_" she snarled.  She wished she knew a better parting shot than this, but it was the most advanced spell she and Willow had studied so far.  Waves of liquid fire streamed forth from Buffy's wand and cascaded downward like burning rain, only this rain stuck to the flesh of the creatures below.  Four of the creatures were already completely into the clearing and had no cover; three more were caught at the edge of the woods, and fled, their cloaks and pieces of their bodies aflame.  The mute creatures could not scream, but greasy smoke and a sickening stench filled the air as those unfortunate enough to be caught in the blazing waterfall writhed and burned, their bodies catching fire like deadwood.

      For a few brief seconds, the awakened Slayer in Buffy wanted to give chase.  Destroying creatures like that was the reason for her existence.  Even the wand in her hand seemed to be urging her forward.  Then the icy feeling of Lupin in her arms returned to her consciousness, and the adrenaline of battle faded.

      "Damn," she spat, turning her broom towards the castle as fast as she could manage with the professor's limp form in her hands.

      As she turned, she spotted a figure flying toward her, and a few more a few hundred yards farther behind.  The closest figure, however, was that of Minerva McGonagall.

      "Professor!" she shouted.

      The Transfiguration teacher drew alongside, her face already white.  She pulled back the fold of Lupin's robe at the neck.  A faint bite mark was visible there.  Buffy cursed again, though only to fight off the fear that was threatening to choke her.  

      "The infirmary, quick!" McGonagall cried.  "As fast as you can fly that thing, forget the rules, fly in the school!"

      Buffy nodded and darted forward, aiming for the castle door she knew to be closest to the infirmary.  She recognized several of the others that had been trailing McGonagall as she approached … Ron and Ginny were there, and a few others she recognized that often sat near them at the Gryffindor table … but she had no intention of stopping to chat.

      "Infirmary!" she shouted as she screamed past them.  They banked off as quickly as they could, turning and heading back for the castle.  Buffy noticed Ginny Weasley was a surprisingly good flier; she hadn't expected that from the rather unassuming youngest Weasley, but the young redhead turned much faster than anyone else, though Buffy was still ahead of her.

      "This way!" Ginny cried from above her.

      Buffy slowed reflexively and looked up.  "What?"

      "Window!" Ginny shouted, passing Buffy and darting for a second-floor window.

      _The infirmary_, Buffy realized.  The girl was sharp.

_      "Alohamora!"_ Ginny cried as they approached the window.  Buffy darted through only a heartbeat after the opening opened wide enough for her and Lupin to get through.

      "Good heavens!" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed as they flew in the window.  A moment later, however, she let out a piercing shriek.  "Remus!"  She was off her chair in an instant.  "Get him inside, get him inside!"

      _Where the hell did you think I was going, lady?_ Buffy thought irritably, but she was off her broom in a flash, carrying Lupin like a baby and laying him in the closest bed inside the hospital wing.  Ginny was already inside.  Ron appeared through the window a moment later, followed by a few of the other fliers.  A moment later, Hermione appeared from the corridor, breathless.  She had clearly been running.

      "What happened?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

      "An attack.  Black-robed figures.  Demons of some kind, I think.  They made the air all cold around them, and one of them bit him, like a vampire."

      "The Dementor's Kiss?" Ron asked, a look of horror on his face.

      "No!" a powerful voice answered.  McGonagall had just landed.  "I don't think they had time to finish it.  I've seen a Kiss victim before."

      "But it was dementors?"

      "Yes, Poppy."

      "And they tried …" Madame Pomfrey didn't finish the thought, pushing Lupin's robe collar down in answer.  There was a frightened gasp from the others.

      "All right, everyone out, let me work!" the nurse barked a moment later.  She and McGonagall quickly cleared everyone out into the waiting room.  McGonagall left last, and shut the door behind her.  No one had moved an inch beyond the door.

      "What happened?" she asked.

      "You sure you want me to say … here?" Buffy asked.

      "They can handle it.  They've all seen dementors before."

      "Sounds like you should be storyteller here, then.  They looked like vampires, but …"

      "I'm afraid they're quite worse," McGonagall spat.  "But go on."

      "I spotted him from the Tower.  He was almost at the edge of the woods, trying to get onto the grounds, driving them off with some kind of light spell."

      "The Patronus Charm," Hermione explained.

      "Quiet, please, Miss Granger," McGonagall said curtly.

      "Sorry, professor."

      "Anyway, he … couldn't quite make it.  There were five at first, but then another group of them showed up and drove him back.  He made it to a clearing, though, so I sort of … well, I used a Summoning Charm to pick him up without getting too close, and flew back."

      McGonagall's eyes widened imperceptibly, and several of the others in the room controlled their reactions far less.  "And the light that Miss Granger saw?"

      "A Sunburst, I think."

      "You think?"

      "Willow described it to me, but I'd never used it before.  I remembered it from when Peter used it on me in Hogsmeade."

      The others' expressions were growing even more amazed, but McGonagall had managed to get regain her businesslike mien.  "And your little parting shot?  A fire spell of some kind?"

      Buffy nodded.  "Willow and I just learned it Friday.  The Flaming Flood."

      "That's what I thought it looked like," McGonagall said.  Most of the others simply looked at each other at this, and shrugged, but Hermione's eyes widened even further, and she gasped.  McGonagall continued.  "Did you see if you caught any of them?"

      "Four," Buffy answered immediately.  "And three more barbecuing as they left, but I couldn't see what happened."

      "Four dementors," Minerva repeated to herself.

      Buffy looked around at the other students.  "You know, no one else seems to feel like talking, but please, professor, why is everyone looking at me like that?"

      The other students in the room, mostly Gryffindors, had mixed reactions to that.

      A faint hint of a smile touched McGonagall's lips.  "I think they're a little impressed, actually.  Where did you learn that?"

      "Willow picked it out.  We practiced elemental stuff a lot last week."

      "But you don't know where she found it?"

      Buffy shrugged.  "A book.  Either the library, or one of the basic ones we bought at Diagon Alley, or one Lupin leant us."

      "Lupin was loaning you books?"

      "Not really, just letting us read them in his office while we practiced."

      McGonagall relaxed slightly.  "I'm guessing it's the latter, then.  Remus would have had Sirius' old books, and he was the last Hogwarts student to learn that, more than twenty years ago now.  I seem to remember Mr. Black invented it, actually.  That is not in any of your textbooks for fall, you know."

      "No, it was … well, sort of like conditioning.  Willow thought if we could do that, we could do all the lower fire spells better."

      "Your friend is quite a teacher."

      Buffy laughed.  "I think your hat got it right.  I think the words were 'bloody brilliant.'"

      "Are you sure they're destroyed?"

      "Well, I think so."

      "We'll have to go check in the morning.  Actually, now.  If so, we'll have to add that into the curriculum for advanced students.  It takes a lot to destroy dementors.  Lots of fire, a supernova of positive emotional energy, or the Killing Curse.  Maybe Godric's sword and a few other weapons, I don't know."

      Buffy shrugged.  There was not much she could say to that.  She had questions of her own, however.  "Professor, what was it trying to do?  Are they like vampires?"

      "Worse," McGonagall spat.  "A vampire will only drain your blood and kill you, generally.  The Dementor's Kiss sucks a person's soul out of its body and digests it, slowly.  Painfully.  I've never quite understood all of how a soul can be digested, but it's not pretty, I assure you.  The body is left alive, but an empty, mindless, soulless husk."

      Buffy fought down the urge to vomit.  It looked like several of the others in the room were doing likewise.

      The door behind Buffy opened then, and Madame Pomfrey emerged.  Buffy was instantly forgotten, as all the students pressed her in hushed but forceful voices for information.

      Madame Pomfrey held up her hands.  "Minerva, can I talk to you?"

      McGonagall looked around at the others for a moment, then nodded, striding back into the sleeping quarters with Poppy, closing the door behind her.

      Buffy slumped as soon as the two teachers were out of sight, collapsing on a soft bench against the wall.  The other students crowded around her anxiously; without McGonagall, she was the best source of information left, which bothered her, because she really didn't have anything to tell them.

      "You heard pretty much the whole story," Buffy explained above the hushed clamor of voices.  "I'd never seen a … dementor … before.  But I'm firmly deciding I don't like them."

      "Truly horrible things," Hermione agreed.  "They suck all the warmth and happy thoughts out of a person, and it gets worse the more of them there are, and the closer they get.  They make people relive the worst memories of their lives, over and over."

      Memories of Angel and Acathla, and the other things she had done, flashed back through Buffy's mind.  _Glad I didn't get too close,_ she decided.

      "Oh, yeah, Hermione, you looked like you knew this one … what exactly was Lupin doing?"

      The others quieted as Hermione explained.  "It's called the Patronus Charm.  Basically an incarnation of … well, good feelings.  That's normally what they feed on, but the Patronus kind of overloads them.  It's really useful, actually; I once saw Harry drive off about a hundred of them at once with it."

      "Lupin didn't seem to be working it so well."

      "Which means two things," Hermione agreed.  "First, something or someone was really pushing the dementors to go after him, and two, Lupin was already tired and worn down."

      Buffy nodded.  That made sense.

      McGonagall emerged from the sleeping quarters a moment later.  Her face was somber, but determined.  The other students immediately crowded around her, pressing for answers.  The teacher held up her hand for silence.

      "Professor Lupin's soul was not removed from his body," McGonagall explained.  "But he will probably be out for some time.  He needs rest, and time … and … well, it might be a good idea if some people would stay with him.  In turns, and not all the time, but just being there.  Poppy thinks it might help him come back sooner."

      "I'll take first shift," Buffy said immediately.

      "Me, too," Hermione added.  There was a chorus on top of that, but McGonagall raised her hand for silence again.

      "Well, we can't have everyone here at once.  Miss Summers, stay with him tonight, but don't stay up too late.  Hermione, the rest of you, please, get some sleep.  You'll all have plenty of time tomorrow.  Probably for several days."  From the look on McGonagall's face, Buffy had a disturbing suspicion it might be even longer, but she waited patiently as the rest of the students filed out of the room.  McGonagall turned once at the outer door, and reminded her to go to sleep eventually, then turned and left.  As the other students had faded from view, the older woman suddenly looked like she was about to fall asleep on her feet.

      Buffy entered the sleeping quarters and returned to sit by Lupin's bed.  Lupin's skin was still cold, and his breathing was shallow, but it was regular, and the cut on his neck didn't look quite as fearsome as it had less than an hour earlier.

      Buffy had not only asked for the first shift out of wanting to be with Lupin, however.  She wanted to know what had happened.  Madame Pomfrey was nowhere in the room.  She concentrated.  She was already drained, but she had to do this now; from all she had heard, it got immeasurably more difficult as time went on.  She made a few concise motions with her wand.

      _"Historia proxima, appareo._"

      Misty visions of McGonagall and Pomfrey appeared.  She focused her mind on moving the images back, until the moment when they both appeared in the room.  The images were nowhere near as good as Flitwick's; they were out of focus; but the sound was there, and though the words crackled like a radio with bad reception, they were understandable.  That was all Buffy really cared about at the moment.

      "What happened, Poppy?" McGonagall asked earnestly.  Her stern expression had dropped the moment she had closed the door on the students outside.

      "Another few seconds and he would have been gone," Pomfrey breathed.  "But I think he might make it."

      "Might?"

      "You see, the dementor bit him," Pomfrey explained.  "But it was stopped between the bite itself and sucking the soul out."

      "There's a gap?"

      "Certainly not much of one," Pomfrey empathized, "but apparently, there is.  I've never felt anything like it.  His soul has been … I can't even describe it.  Almost like it's punctured."

      "Punctured?" Minerva said sharply, but there was tightly controlled apprehension in her voice.

      "Yes."

      "And what does that mean?"

      "The connection between his soul and his body was partially severed.  Partially.  Not much, actually, but not much is a lot."

      "Can it be healed?"

      "It can," the nurse said wearily, "but not entirely by us.  He's going to have to do most of it himself, from within his dreams."

      "Within his dreams?"

      "His conscious thought has been cut off from his body, cast back into his unconscious mind, possibly even deeper.  If his mind finds its way back to where it belongs, he comes back to us … with whatever he happened to learn from his struggles along the way, and without whatever he forgets in the process.  Time in dreams can be peculiar."

      "What will he be feeling?"

      "I can only guess.  But judging by what was happening to him when he fell, I don't think many of his dreams will be fun."  Pomfrey's voice was cracking.

      "How … how long will it take?  In our time?"

      "I don't know.  A week, at least.  Probably more.  Maybe months.  Maybe never."  She choked on the last word, but she forced her back to straighten a moment later.  "He could use people around him … just someone nearby, sometimes people can sense that when they're asleep."

      "I'll take care of it," McGonagall promised earnestly.  "Is there anything else I can do?"

      "Not unless you happen to know someone who can enter someone else's dreams."

      McGonagall hung her head helplessly.  "Harry used to enter You-Know-Who's dreams, but that's different.  The last real dreamweaver was generations ago … Trelawney's great-grandmother."

      "I was being facetious, Minerva.  I don't know if even Selene could help us here, if she were still alive.  This may be the first time in history a Dementor's Kiss has been interrupted."

      "I'll speak to Dumbledore," McGonagall promised.  "Mind magic was always a specialty of his, maybe he can help."

      "Of course," Pomfrey replied.

      "I'll go do that now," McGonagall said.  "I'm not going to fix anything standing here.  And when I'm done, maybe I'll go beat up Trelawney and see if any of her students actually ever seemed to have anything resembling truly powerful dreams—as if she'd know, but it'll make me feel better."

      "She probably wouldn't even know," Pomfrey said resignedly.

      "This is where the part where 'it'll make me feel better' comes in," McGonagall said bitterly as she made her way to the exit.  Madame Pomfrey left the room by the back door a moment later.

      Buffy dispelled the Recall Charm with a quick flick of her wand.

      She took several deep breaths, and moved slowly over to kneel by Lupin's bedside.  She had to concentrate on every step; she had spent more of herself that night than she had in a long time.  She leaned her head wearily on the side of Lupin's chest.

      _Someone who can enter someone else's dreams._

_      Truly powerful dreams._

      It was something to think about until morning.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **AUTHOR'S NOTES:**  I've always missed seeing a little bit more of the Über-Buffy from the end of Season 4, so I figured I'd bring her back for at least a scene or two.  (Also, I figured if the dementors could bring out the darker side of Willow, it would only be consistent that they help bring out the darker, primeval side of the Slayer, too.)

      W00t!  I never expected so many reviews for last chapter.  The Dumbledore-Moody scene got more comments than Harry asking Willow out, too.  You people are a strange crowd. ;-)  Thanks for all your support!

      Also, special thanks to those of you who commented on the "Harry's eyes" errata; Harry does indeed have _green_ eyes, so I don't know where that _brown_ came from.  Grrr.

**      COMING SOON:** Chapter 23, "News."  Willow returns to Hogwarts, and she and Buffy both get caught up with what's been going on with each other and get their first exposure to what it's like to have to deal with being in the _Daily Prophet._

**      SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_      Buffy spread out the front page.  "Aw, man, you stole my front page!" she pouted._

_      "If I could give it back to you, I would," Willow promised._


	23. News

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. _Rowling_.  (For some reason I've been saying "Rawling" in every chapter up until this one … grr …)

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 23:**

**      NEWS**

      Willow fidgeted nervously as she boarded the boat to take her back across the lake.  She had taken the early-morning redeye train to Hogwarts, so she hadn't had time to see the morning paper, but it would have been out by the time she arrived.  She wondered what kind of reaction she would get.  How much had been revealed?  Snape had said some time ago that special efforts had been made to keep her name out of the paper, but she didn't see much way out of this one.

      As the Hogwarts shore came into view, her eyes widened.  Buffy was already waiting at the pier.  She hadn't been planning on arriving until midafternoon.

      "Um, hey," she said as the boat pulled in.  Then she took in her friend's appearance.  "Did you sleep at all?"

      "It was a long night," Buffy said.

      "How did you know I was coming?"

      "I didn't, I saw you out of the infirmary window.  I just flew down here."

      "Oh, so this isn't about the paper?"

      "The paper?  Did Lupin's attack already get out?"

      "Lupin's attack?!  What?!"

      "You didn't know?"

      "No, I got on the train at four-thirty this morning!"

      "Waitaminit … so you're referring to something _else_ in the paper I should know about?"

      Willow grinned sheepishly.  The pain of the memory was fading.  "Three things happened that probably would have made the paper, but I think only one will make it in."

      "All right, should you tell me now, or should we get the paper first?"

      "Wasn't there one in the infirmary waiting room?"

      "I was in the sleeping quarters."

      "You weren't …" Willow looked her friend over.

      "No, but Lupin's in bad shape.  I stayed up with him all night."

      "Oh, Goddess."

      Buffy nodded.  "Come on."

      "Are we going to the infirmary?"

      "Yeah, I'm going to stay at least until breakfast."

      They took side corridors up to the infirmary, and managed to avoid passing anyone they knew well; the fact that it was so early in the morning helped.  Sure enough, there was a copy of the morning _Daily Prophet_ already lying out on the table in the waiting room.

      "Sure you're ready for this?" Willow asked.

      "Are you?" Buffy asked, with a somber nod towards the sleeping quarters.

      Willow grimaced.

      Buffy spread out the front page.  "Aw, man, you stole my front page!" she pouted.

      "If I could give it back to you, I would," Willow promised.

      A large picture on the front page showed the main room of the Atlantis, with wizards in important-looking uniforms shooing the cameraman back, sealing off the area, and talking to reporters in the corner.  The headline read

**_                             Harry Potter Captures Peter Pettigrew_**

      _DIAGON ALLEY, LONDON — In a rare pleasant surprise over the last few years, the Boy Who Lived dueled tonight with four dementors and the illegal Animagus and recently-revealed Death Eater Peter Pettigrew, the traitor who faked his own death at the end of the last war with You-Know-Who.  Pettigrew, who cut off his own thumb years ago in an attempt to frame Sirius Black, lost the rest of his arm in the fight to an enlarged piranha._

_      No witnesses were on hand for the fight at the Atlantis, one of the _Prophet's_ top five dining establishments over the last three years, _

"Top three!" the waiter in the picture shouted …__

_      … and Magical Law Enforcement officials claim the entire room had been shielded against any Recall Charm.  The last witnesses to leave the room claim to have seen Harry and a mysterious red-haired girl that they did not recognize behind them._

_      This incident has raised a lot of pressing questions.  Foremost among them: who is this mysterious girl?  A waiter who claims to have served the pair avows that the two ordered a private booth and that Potter picked up the check …_

"_That's_ their 'most pressing question?'" Willow gasped, tossing that page of the paper aside to avoid reading the rest of the article.

      "Journalism at its best, it seems," Buffy said wryly.  "Now you know what it's like to date a celebrity."

      "Buffy, this isn't funny!" Willow cried.  "The whole school is going to be looking at me now."

      "Well, maybe not, since I think me, Ron, and Hermione were the only students here who knew where you were, so unless the teachers talk, people won't put two and two together until you tell them—but why is this something you'd want to hide?"

      "Not hide, just … not be quite _that _public."

      "Well, you're going to have to get used to it eventually, you know, especially when Harry comes back for the fall."

      "I know, I know, but it's just … well, it's so new.  And I never thought I'd ever date anyone famous, you know.  Not a very Willow thing to do."

      "Well, it is now," Buffy said with a smile.  "And for what it's worth, I think you two are awesome for each other."

      Willow felt herself blush, and she tried to think of a comeback, but her tongue tripped over itself.  Eventually, she shrugged, and grinned sheepishly.  "Well then, let's see what _you've_ been up to without me here to keep you out of trouble."

      "So cold," Buffy laughed as she flipped the paper open to the second page.

**_                             Missing Hogwarts Professor Found, Rescued_**

      _HOGWARTS – At nearly midnight on Tuesday night, Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Remus Lupin reappeared at the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, hounded by a pack of dementors.  Lupin, who taught at Hogwarts more than two years ago, was fired despite his incredible popularity among the student body because of concerns from some outside parties about the fact that he's … well, a werewolf.  He was hired again shortly after the Ministry reversed its earlier statements and admitted that Vol … well, that You-Know-Who had risen again.  As reported by the _Prophet_, he had been missing from his office since Saturday night after being attacked by a person or persons unknown._

_      No Hogwarts faculty have yet commented on the incident and the school had not released a statement by press time.  Lupin is reportedly in critical condition in the Hogwarts Infirmary._

_      Be sure to check to check tomorrow's edition of the _Prophet_ for more on this breaking story._

      Willow's eyes were wide as she read it.  "More dementors?  What happened?"

      "The paper actually got the details right," Buffy admitted.  She proceeded to describe the previous night's events to Willow, right up to the part where she had used the Recall Charm to listen in on McGonagall's conversation with Madame Pomfrey.

      Willow's eyes were even wider by the time Buffy had finished her story.  "Wow," she whispered.  "And here I thought _I_ was going to be storyteller of the day."

      "So what _really_ happened?"

      Willow shifted uncomfortably.  There was going to be no easy way for her to say this, especially as Buffy had come to Hogwarts specifically to prevent what had just happened to her, but she had to know.  There was no way she could hide it forever, and it wouldn't solve anything to do so.

      "Buffy, those creatures … those dementors … when they get near you, they sort of … well …"

      "They suck all the warmth and happy thoughts out of a person, and it gets worse the more of them there are, and the closer they get. And they make people relive the worst memories of their lives and all that?" Buffy finished, remembering Hermione's little lesson from the previous night.  Then she froze, and Willow realized that her mind had made one of those intuitive leaps that the Slayer's mind seemed to make frequently … well, outside of class, anyway.  The redheaded wiccan hung her head.

      "I'm sorry, Buffy."

      "Never mind," Buffy said dismissively.  "What happened?"

      "They showed up, and I'd never seen them before and I didn't know what was going on, and it felt like I was all alone, and I kept seeing Tara, and Dawn in that car, and Warren, and everything.  It was so horrible …"

      "Will, seriously, I don't mean to cut this like that, but what happened?  What did you do?"

      Willow took a deep breath.  "I probably would have killed Peter if Harry hadn't stopped me."

      "So you were the one fighting Peter?"

      "Mostly," Willow confirmed.  "Then Harry blasted the dementors away with this spell called a Patronus, and I blacked out at the same time.  I woke up at Ron's brothers' shop, a few blocks away."

      "So you didn't kill anyone."

      "No."

      Buffy breathed a sigh of relief.

      "But Harry knows now.  About me, I mean."

      "How much did you tell him?"

      "Pretty much everything."

      Buffy's eyes narrowed.  "And about me?"

      "Well, I did leave that part out.  But I did tell him about Dumbledore, Fudge, and Flamel delivering our letters in Sunnydale.  I have a feeling the rest is going to get out before long, though," Willow finished morosely.  It wouldn't take too long for a reporter sent to Sunnydale to find out about the Slayer.  Enough people there knew.

      "All right.  As long as you didn't say … that."

      "Oh, and I almost forgot," Willow said, a grin suddenly blossoming over her face.  Not all the memories of that night had been horrible.  "Harry really didn't mind."

      Buffy's eyes brightened, and she smiled as well.  "Did you …?  Did he …?"

      "Well, we didn't _do _anything," Willow explained loftily, but there was a spark in her eyes.  "But we are.  I mean, not that we are going to _do_ anything, but we are … well …"

      "Willow and Harry," Buffy grinned.  "Will, that is so awesome."

      "I know," Willow said with a laugh.  "Goddess, I know.  Even without doing … well, whatever … this was the best night I've had since Tara was alive."  She sighed inwardly at that.  She had always felt a brief surge of darkness within her whenever she said anything openly about Tara's death, and it was still there, but it was fainter than it had ever been, and had lost most of its frenzied edge.

      "Except for the whole, well, dark-eyed and evil thing."

      Willow grinned.  "Well, yeah, except for that."

      Buffy let out a breath, briefly ruffling her bangs.  "Well, it sounds like our favorite rat-man was the only one really hurt there, so it could have been worse.  So what I was going to originally ask … have you come across anything about dreams?"

      Willow sighed.  "It's a really obscure branch of Divination.  That's about all I know so far.  It wasn't even really related to anything we'd need to know for fall, so I hadn't really looked at it."

      "Well, can you look anyway?"

      "Of course," Willow answered.  "By the way … can I see him?"

      They had not moved from the waiting room.  Buffy suddenly realized that Willow hadn't seen Lupin yet.  "All right," she said.  "But it's not pretty."

      "I'll deal," Willow said as they walked into the sleeping quarters.

      It wasn't as bad as Buffy's imagery had made it out to be; he really did look like he was sleeping.  The wound at his neck had already been healed.  He was extremely pale, and his breathing was shallow, but it was regular.

      She looked up at Buffy.  "I'll start looking for whatever I can find on dreaming," she said.  "But we aren't supposed to know about this, so I'll have to be all cloak-and-daggery about it.  I really ought to be warning you against this, but I think I've known you long enough to know how far that goes."

      Buffy shrugged.  "I get warnings in dreams all the time.  Sometimes I think they do kind of mix with other peoples'.  I've just never thought about practicing it before."

      Willow yawned.  "All right, I'll get started this afternoon, but I desperately need to get some sleep, I'm sorry."

      As if cued by Willow's yawn, Buffy yawned as well.  "All right," she acquiesced. "It's been a long night for me, too, but I'm good for a few more hours."  She flexed her arm and pointed to her bicep as if to imply, _Slayer strength._  "Hermione said she'd be by after breakfast, so I'll come up then.  I don't think I should leave him alone."

      Willow nodded and gave Lupin's hand a tight squeeze as she excused herself.  She navigated her way back to her bedroom, and was asleep before her head touched the pillow.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **Author's Notes: ** Buffy and Willow have their first taste of fame in the wizarding world, even if they weren't identified … this was mostly a setup and transitioning chapter, getting set for:

**      Coming Soon:** Chapter 24, "Reckless Dreams."  Buffy and Willow both manage to find themselves in other peoples' dreams.  Not always a fun place to be.  (No, guys, that's not _really_ them showing up in your real dreams … :-P)

**      Sneak Preview:**

      _Willow was in the same chair she had been in her previous dream.  In _her_ chair, she corrected herself.  Where had that stray thought come from?  Time to deal with that later._


	24. Reckless Dreams

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 24:**

**      RECKLESS DREAMS**

      Buffy watched as Willow's tired form retreated out of sight, and waited for a few more minutes.

      _I'm good for a few more hours.  Whatever_, she thought.  She was half dead on her feet.  She was amazed that Willow hadn't noticed.

      It was nearly seven o'clock.  Hermione had said she'd be in by eight.  That would give her one hour to work with if she succeeded, one hour to fend for herself if she failed, and one hour of sleep if nothing else happened.  Lupin wasn't alone.  The bedchamber was empty except for the two of them, but Madame Pomfrey was around, and she knew better than to think that the rest of the faculty would just leave him unguarded, not when his original attacker had been able to get into Hogwarts once.  In addition, she'd never failed to wake up if danger approached her while she was sleeping … well, Angel had been able to, but he had been special.

      She lay down, her head resting on Lupin's chest, and let sleep take her away, trying to concentrate on Lupin as much as possible before she did.

      She was standing on a cold, stony plateau, splotched with scattered patches of trees and foliage.  From the light and the sound, it had to be early morning.  There was a light mist over the land, and she couldn't recognize it.  Eventually, she realized that there was more to the image before her than just a natural mist, however.

      _I'm dreaming,_ Buffy realized.

      _I'm dreaming of a nature walk?_ she wondered a moment later.

      She cast her eyes down at herself.  She wasn't wearing her school robes, but she wasn't dressed abnormally.  She certainly seemed to be herself.

      Faint, ghostly flashes of light distracted her attention.  She swung around, her wand suddenly in her hand, though she hadn't been holding it a moment ago and had no idea how it had gotten there.  The lights were coming from a thick patch of trees almost a hundred yards away.  Buffy began to run, but the lights faded as she approached.  The lights came from another patch of trees a moment later, and Buffy ran towards them again a moment later, and once again, the lights faded as she approached.  One of the trees seemed to be freshly blackened, as though recently hit with a spurt of fire, but no sign of fire or anything that might shoot fire was in sight.

      The flashes came again, and this time, they were in the middle of a wide open part of the plateau; three quick bursts of red light, ghostly and faint, seeming to erupt from midair.  She thought she had seen the faintest outline of a person for a moment, but then it was gone.

      Buffy hurried to where the bursts of light had been coming from, and found a faint, barely-noticeable path on the ground.  She wasn't sure what it was doing there; it didn't seem to go from anywhere or to anywhere, and it wound with no apparent reason, occasionally veering straight into obstacles instead of around them, but she followed it.  It got more difficult as she went along, and for some reason the land around her seemed to grow darker as she did.  Yet it also seemed to grow more solid, the misty feeling vanishing.  She was heading down a hill, and the trees were growing thicker.

      A moment later, she realized that the trees were not just getting thicker but were solidifying into the wooden wall of a building.  

      _Stupid crazy dreamworld,_ she muttered to herself.  

      The sound of a train whistle reached her ears.  The feel of the ground beneath her feet changed from packed forest earth to solid wooden planks, and a moment later, she found herself emerging in the familiar main terminal of Hogsmeade Station.  Faint outlines of ghostly silhouettes appeared every now and then, the outline of some witch or wizard passing by, perhaps drifting at the edge of sleep as they walked, on their way to or from the trains.

      "I'm dreaming," a weary voice next to Buffy suddenly spoke.

      Buffy turned to see Draco Malfoy sitting on a bench next to her.  "Um … no … actually, I think I am," Buffy observed.

      Draco's eyebrows raised.  There were faint, dark lines underneath his eyes here, but the piercing silver surrounding his irises was only accentuated by how ghostly everything else seemed in this place.  Draco seemed almost as solid as in real life, almost as solid as Buffy herself here.

      "Really?" he asked.  "So you were dreaming of me?"

      Buffy's face flushed briefly, but she steadied herself.  "Not … actually," she managed.  "I think I was looking for Lupin."

      "Oh."  Draco's voice was sad and weary again, and a lot of the usual fire and bite was gone from it.  "I was really hoping you were dreaming of me."

      Buffy's face flushed again.  _He's not real,_ Buffy reminded herself.  Then, a moment later, _Then why am I dreaming of a Draco that wishes I was dreaming of him?_  She forced that line of thought away from her mind; she didn't have time for this kind of thing at the moment.

      Draco suddenly tensed, and quickly pushed himself to his feet.  Buffy opened her mouth to say something, but realized that Draco wasn't looking at her; he was staring intently across the platform.  Buffy followed his eyes, but only saw more misty shapes fading in and out of view.  Her eyes narrowed.  They were all indistinct, but one looked like a hazy image of Draco himself.

      Suddenly, Buffy felt Draco's hand slide into her own and grip it tightly.  "I _really_ wish you were dreaming of me," he said.  Buffy started and turned to look at him as he said that; that voice had sounded much more like his real one: lively, sharp, energetic.  His form appeared a little more solid than it had a moment earlier, too.

      The misty figures on the platform began to swirl and pulse as though disturbed by a rough wind, and the ambient light—it was too vague to call it sunlight—dimmed perceptibly.  Several more figures appeared on the platform, the most distinct of which were two adult-sized and one child-sized one appearing near where the misty image of the other Draco was coming out of the terminal, and the swirling intensified.  One of the adult-sized figures, more distinct than the other two, looked vaguely like a tall, dark-haired woman in a flowing black dress.  There was a sudden mighty burst of orange, yellow, and red, and a rough wind suddenly erupted in Buffy's face.

      "Down!" Draco hissed, suddenly wrapping his arms around her and throwing the two of them to the floor.  The wind and the flash passed over them, and the feel of Draco's arms around her suddenly vanished, as did the warmth and the light of Hogsmeade Station.

      Buffy roused herself, and was standing on a smooth, dark floor like polished obsidian.  If there were walls nearby, she could not see them; the darkness around her was as thick as tar.  There was no trace of either people or anything made by them in sight.  The air was utterly odorless and silent save for the sound of her breathing.

      _At least I'm still breathing,_ she noted with a modest amount of satisfaction.  That was always a good thing.  _Number one rule of Slaying.  Don't die,_ she reminded herself.

      "Hello?" she called softly.  Her voice was absorbed by the darkness only a few steps from her lips.

      _"Lumos,"_ she said.  Nothing happened.  She tried again, and once again, her wand might as well have been a stick in her hands.  It was good to see that she still had her wand, and reached into her robes to find that she had a stake there as well.  It was only then that she realized that she was somehow back in her school robes as well.  She had no idea how either the stake or the robes had gotten there, but apparently whoever was costuming this scene had neglected to give her a flashlight.

      _Dammit, I need to see something,_ she thought.

      The darkness in front of her faded slightly, as though a lane were opening up where her eyes were focused.  That surprised her, and she took an instinctive step in that direction, but the darkness filled in again a moment later, and shifted with her so that she still had the same circle of vision around her.

      She thought about that again for the moment, thought about what she had been doing and thinking the moment the darkness opened slightly.

      _Sight,_ she thought.  _I was thinking about seeing._

_      See,_ she concentrated.  _I want to see._  Nothing happened.  _I _need_ to see._  She concentrated harder.  _You're not going to stand in my way, you blasted cloud._  The darkness shifted again, and another lane opened up.

      _Lupin,_ she thought.  _I need to see Lupin.  Now._  The lane opened further, until she could see a black wall at the end of it.  She moved forward toward it, and the darkness swirled around it again, and it vanished.

      _I need to see Lupin,_ she thought again.  The lane opened again.  She held the thought in her mind this time and approached the wall.  She reached out an uncertain hand to touch the wall.

      Immediately, the darkness around her shifted again, and she found that she could let go of her concentration and the wall remained.

      _All right,_ she said.  _So what _is_ it?_

      It was a wall of some kind, that was certain, made of some black material that was neither wood, metal, or stone.  It didn't look like it should even be solid, but it was.  There were symbols on it, or in it, depending on how Buffy looked at them, that shone in the light … except that there was no light.  An image of a wolf running on two legs, a regular wolf, a man, a complete set of the phases of the moon, a wand, a dog, a stag, a rat, a flaming bird, and a host of other symbols that Buffy didn't recognize.

      She pushed on the wall.  Nothing happened.  She moved along it a few strides.  The pattern of symbols repeated, then repeated again.  There seemed to be no end to it.  She returned her attention to the symbols themselves.

      _What am I looking for?_ she thought.  _I need to know.  I need to see Lupin.  I need to talk to him._

      Suddenly, the images moved.  Just a little, but enough to be obvious.  Buffy concentrated harder, looking at that one.

      "You need to find me," a voice suddenly whispered in Buffy's ear.

      Buffy wheeled around.  "Lupin?  Lupin?!"  There was no one there.  She turned her attention back to the wall.  The voice had been Lupin's, but distant and faint, like she was hearing his voice echoing up from the bottom of a canyon.

      _You need to find me,_ she repeated to herself.

      "Well, they're all you, sort of," Buffy mused aloud.  But a moment later, she realized that that was not entirely true.  The rat certainly had a lot to do with him, but it wasn't him.

      Her eyes centered on the image of the wolf running on two legs.  As they did, the image seemed to brighten, and move towards the front of the wall, like an object rising to the surface of a pool.

      "This is you," Buffy said aloud, putting her hand on the image.

      The wall began to ripple like a pond disturbed by a shower of pebbles.  Flecks of it began to chip away at the edges of Buffy's vision, and a large, mercurial piece of it clung to Buffy's hand as she moved to move it away.  The symbols began to flash and swirl, briefly morphing into patterns that seemed to contain messages or significance of some kind, but then scattering away to re-form again.

      The wall was weakening, Buffy realized.  It had been like impenetrable glass before, and had felt as solid and deep as a mountain.  Now, it was no more than sticky water, but more than that, it _felt _weaker.  It felt thinner.  _Ready or not, here I come,_ she shouted inwardly as she lowered her shoulder and ploughed into the darkness.

      The wall surged, and Buffy felt herself pushing through it like thick gelatin.  Her hand, stretched out in front of her, felt a shift as it pushed through the far side of the wall.  Then she was through.

      She gasped, and cried out.  She was on the plateau she had started on again, but it was night.  Only it wasn't.  There were at least twenty full moons in the sky, several setting over one horizon and several rising over the other.  Lupin was in an enormous cage at the center of the plateau, and the cage was surrounded by as many dementors as there were moons in the sky.  There was a woman there as well, on the far side of the cage, a tall, cold-eyed woman laughing shrilly.  The air felt frigid, but Buffy knew that it was only her skin.  She realized she had entered Lupin's dreams, but she could go no farther.  

      The despair was overwhelming; not her despair, Lupin's despair.  She was reliving the worst memories of Lupin's life.  She remembered times when she had almost gotten away from his friends at Hogwarts during the full moon, remembered reading reports in the paper of people being mauled and praying it wasn't himself, waking up in the Shrieking Shack with cuts, bite marks, and scars across his body, getting run out of wizarding communities across Europe, getting fired from Hogwarts.  She was feeling his emotions, receiving his memories.  For the first time, the idiocy of what she had done back in the Hogwarts Infirmary came into focus.

      Suddenly, the woman at the far side of the cage looked up, and seemed to see her for a moment, and Buffy tensed.  The sight of her touched a chord of memory in Buffy's mind somewhere, but the atmosphere here was so crushing that she couldn't concentrate.  Then the woman looked again, and seem to dismiss whatever she had seen as a momentary trick of the light.

      But then the world began shaking.

      Moments later, she realized it was only her shaking, not the ground around her.  Was she under attack?  _"Finite incantatem!"_ she cried.

      _"_'Finite Incantatem' indeed!" a girl's indignant voice growled.

      Buffy shook herself, and suddenly Hermione was there, and she was back in the Hogwarts Infirmary, her head just rising from Lupin's chest.

            *           *           *           *           *

      Willow was in the same chair she had been in her previous dream.  In _her_ chair, she corrected herself.  Where had that stray thought come from?  Time to deal with that later.

      "Bella," she said affectionately, a cold affection that came nowhere near to warming her heart.  She appreciated Bella for her zeal, and for her loyalty.  Those where what mattered to her.

      The woman named Bella approached from the shadows.  Her carriage was confident, far more than the two people Willow had seen previously.  The light in her eyes was respectful, showing that she acknowledged Willow as her superior, but was not obsequious.  Willow grinned coldly.  She had always believed Bella to have the most potential among her followers.

      "My lord," she acknowledged.

      "You wished to speak with me."

      "And I am grateful for the honor."

      "Please ensure that it is not a waste of my time."

      "Of course, my lord."  She straightened.  "I think the Slayer may be attempting to break into the wolf's dreams."

      Willow tensed.  Could the Slayer have such capabilities?  It was possible.  Little was known about the Slayer.  Certainly none had ever been properly studied.  This one had inhabited a Dark Node for most of her life, and it had been unlikely that she would ever leave it.  Few lived long.  The Summers girl was the first to even stay in one place for long; few took such risks.  The Watchers' Council was a Muggle faction, and by convention, the Slayer had always been kept apart from the wizarding world.  Dumbledore had broken a lot of traditions when he had brought her to Hogwarts, and would certainly have been criticized for it much more sharply had their not been a war brewing.  There was little reputable scholarship on her.  Yet her instincts and intuitions seemed to have an uncanny pattern of leading her in the right direction.  Such a person could easily have dreams potent enough to do such a thing; she had been full of enough surprises already.  One crushed and seven incinerated dementors' worth of surprises, at the very least.

      "What do you think of another attack?" Willow asked.

      Bella's brow furrowed.  "It seems risky at this point, my lord.  Dumbledore is not there now, which is good, but if Lucius' agent should fail …" she trailed off nervously, obviously wondering if she had made a mistake.  Her confidence had its limits, it seemed, Willow thought.

      "I do not espouse needless risks, Bella," she said, a faint smile touching the corners of her mouth.

      "Of course not, my lord."

      "If ten dementors fail, it is unlikely Lucius' agent would succeed.  Lucius himself will take care of it.  He is in a better position to succeed."

      "Yes, sir."

      Willow leaned forward.  "Oh, yes, see if you can get access to the Malfoy family library.  They have a repository of dream sorcery there."

      Bella looked a little puzzled at that, but bowed her head in acquiescence.  "Of course, my lord, though I am hardly a dreamweaver."

      Willow grinned.  _Why am I grinning?_  _I wish I knew._  "With the Malfoy lore, you could be.  It could help you keep the Slayer out of the wolf's dreams.  Take a more direct hand if you must."

      "Yes, my lord, but …"

      "No buts, Bella," Willow interrupted fiercely.  "Go."

      "Yes, sir," Bella finished meekly, bowing her head and backing away into the dark.

      Willow awoke and sat up.  She stretched idly, wondering why on Earth she was awake; it couldn't have been more than an hour since she went to sleep, and she was still deathly tired.  She rolled over, intent on going back to sleep, when the sound of running footsteps in the corridor outside reached her.  A moment later, Buffy burst into the room.

      Buffy caught her breath, and the two friends looked at each other for a few seconds.

      "I just had the craziest dream," they both said at once.

            *           *           *           *           *

**      Author's Notes:**  Draco may not be around for avid seekers of Buffy/Draco action, but that's nothing a little dream can't cure!  This was my first chance at trying to work story elements into dreams, so sorry if it appeared a little cheesy.  Nevertheless, however cheesy her intro, Bellatrix is now officially in the picture.  Mwahahaha … drumroll please

      _lil badass:_  Thanks for the reviews (especially the ones from the earlier chapters); I'm not sure what I'm going to do with _Origins_, since I'm starting to think I should have separated it into two or three smaller stories than one planned mega-epic.  I don't like leaving things unfinished, though, so I'll hopefully get back to that eventually.

      _Silver Warrior:_ The _Prophet_ printing real news?  You should know better. ;-)

      Thanks again to everyone else who reviewed ch. 22, too!  I forgot to mention that last time.  It appears the Über-Buffy was a hit (she certainly left an impression on the dementors …)!

**      Coming Soon:** Chapter 25, "Give Media Tension I Deserve."  A reporter from the _Daily Prophet _begins to nose around Hogwarts.  Hermione also starts asking a few questions of her own … and unlike the _Prophet_, she actually knows what she's doing.  J

      Hang with me a few more chapters … the action is going to start speeding up quite a bit pretty soon.  (_DragonKatGal,_ if you're still out there … no spoiling! :-P)

**      Sneak Preview:**

_      Willow dove into the food with a vengeance as Buffy related everything she had heard from Snape, and then from Hermione. […]_

_      "And now Hermione's getting really suspicious of us."_

_      "So what do you think we should do?" Willow asked nervously._


	25. Give Media Tension I Deserve

**      DISCLAIMER:  **The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 25:**

**      GIVE MEDIA TENSION I DESERVE**

      "So the same woman shows up in both dreams," Buffy said as Willow finished talking.

      "Bella.  Who I'm guessing is Bellatrix Lestrange," Willow added.

      Buffy cocked an eye at her.  "Is this someone I should know?"

      "One of Voldemort's top hench … women?  Is there such thing as a henchwoman?  Anyway, she killed Harry's godfather," Willow finished grimly.

      Buffy's eyes widened, and she put a hand to her mouth.  "Oh my gosh."

      "He mentioned her last night.  This morning, actually, I guess.  Goddess, I can't believe it's only been a few hours."

      "Yeah, why did you leave early?" Buffy asked.  She hadn't had time to ask that amid all the earlier excitement.

      Willow shrugged.  "Harry had to leave—actually, he was already kinda late getting back to his uncle's hotel back in Muggle London, since they had to go back to Surrey this morning.  Not much reason for me to stay, really."

      Buffy nodded.  That made sense, particularly if there was a chance that these dementor creatures were after her.  They didn't seem to go into the Muggle world; she'd never even run into them in Sunnydale.

      "All right, well, Hermione's with Lupin now," she said.  "I'm hitting the sack, if it's all the same to you."

      "Mmmph," Willow responded, flopping back down on her pillow.  Buffy leaned over her.  She was already asleep.  Well, from the sound of things, she had earned it.

      Buffy pointed her wand at the door.  She was fading quickly herself, but one last little necessity to take care of.

      _"Colloportus,_" she sighed, sealing the door.  It seemed like forever, but it had only been hours since the _Prophet _had hit the newsstands.  If anyone wanted to interview either of them, they'd have to bring a battering ram.  There would be time for questions later.  As an afterthought, she added a Silencing Charm, just in case anyone felt insistent enough to bang on the door to wake them up.  They could bang away until she woke up on her own good time.

      Buffy climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling.  It had been a long day, and a long night, and even a long morning, though the sun was barely above the horizon, although it rose early this far north in the summer.  Despite that, and despite worrying about Lupin and his nightmares, she felt good.  She could still feel the warm afterglow of the battle spirit she had touched that night.  It had felt good to fight again, to let loose a little.  It had been four days since her duel with Peter.

      She grinned at the ceiling, Ollivander's words coming back to her as they had that night.  _Quite a fighter's wand to begin with.  I do hope you stay out of trouble at school._

      _Hey, only two fights and two rescues in four weeks,_ she thought, still smiling.  _Vacation, all things considered._

      Within minutes, she had drifted into a peaceful slumber, undisturbed by dreams, either her own or anyone else's.

      Buffy stretched languidly as she awoke.  There was not a sound in the room besides the soft, steady rhythm of Willow's breathing on the bunk below.  She opened her eyes sleepily.  From the sun, it looked to be at least mid-afternoon.  Her sleep cycle was going to be shot, but she hadn't gotten so much sleep in a long time.  Physically, she felt better than she had in weeks.

      Lupin's condition still ate at the back of her mind, however, so after a long shower and a welcome change of clothes … she couldn't believe she had gone to bed looking and smelling like that … she took her broom, slipped softly out of the bedroom, and headed for the roof of Slytherin Tower.

      Snape was waiting for her.

      _Damn,_ she thought.  _Just what I need._

      She must have given something away in her face, because the Slytherin Head of House's face twisted in a wry smirk.

      "You don't appear happy to see me, Miss Summers," he greeted her.  "Perhaps you were hoping to find Mr. Creevey?"

      "Mr. who?"

      He looked at her askance, apparently trying to gauge whether or not her ignorance was genuine.  "Mr. Creevey is an investigative reporter from the _Daily Prophet_, Miss Summers," Snape explained patiently.  "He is looking to get some … alone time … with you."

      Buffy wrinkled her nose at the images that conjured up, but her stomach sank.  Much as she had always wanted a little appreciation for what she did, this was neither the time nor the place—and somehow, she doubted this Mr. Creevey was here to give her another Class Protector award.

      "So get rid of him," she said.  "He's got no business here."

      "Well said, Miss Summers, well said indeed.  In fact, that idea is so brilliant we ourselves even thought of it.  Unfortunately, school rules mandate that parents be allowed to visit their children during regular school hours.  Mr. Creevey has a son in the fifth year in that tower over there," Snape gestured towards Gryffindor Tower, "and therefore we cannot … _get_ _rid_ of him until seven-thirty tonight, when the last regular classes end."

      "Wonderful."

      "Mr. Creevey is much less important a figure at the _Prophet_ than he would certainly like to think, however," Snape continued.  "As I told you some time ago, the Ministry and Hogwarts have both been exerting influence there to keep you out of the papers.  You, however, seem determined to make that exceptionally difficult for us."

      "Well, I'm sorry," Buffy began, then stopped herself.  "Or actually, I'm not.  Lupin was in trouble."

      "Indeed he was," Snape said, with clearly mixed feelings.  Buffy bristled.  Snape continued, "but yours was actually not the important story in the _Prophet_.  If you'll note, your name was kept out of it, and the details kept to a minimum, despite several of our more … exuberant … young Gryffindors spilling all manner of fantastic stories about you to the good paper's reporter."

      "Right," Buffy said.  "So this is about Willow."

      "Sharp, for an American," Snape observed dryly.  "But what concerns Miss Rosenberg also concerns you."

      "Sure."

      "So you need to hear this as well.  The _Prophet_, of course, had no idea that Willow Rosenberg was indeed the 'mysterious red-haired girl' about whom they were reporting—if you can call what they do that."

      "So they printed it."

      "Precisely.  And now there is going to be a great deal of scrutiny on the school from sources other than the _Prophet._  All things concerning our young Mr. Potter tend to attract … attention."

      "You were going to say 'trouble.'"

      Snape grinned mirthlessly.  "You _are_ sharp for an American."

      "So what am I in for?  Or is she?"

      Snape's grin, humorless as it was, vanished.  "As of right now, the only people that know of the … relationship … between Miss Rosenberg and Mr. Potter are the teachers at this school, a few of Potter's close lackeys, …" 

      "… I think he'd call them friends," Buffy interjected.

      "… and anyone the two of you might have told," Snape finished pointedly.

      Buffy thought for a moment.  So that's what this was about.  They wanted to know who else was in on the loop.  She sighed.

      "Draco knows," she said.  "But I don't think he told anyone else before he left."

      "I see."

      "If anyone else knows, I don't know.  I didn't tell anyone.  Draco just saw.  But the dementors got away, they could have told anyone working for … for Voldemort," she finished.  She wasn't going to stoop to that infantile 'You-Know-Who.'

      "Quite right, Miss Summers, quite right.  They're blind and mute, by the way, but He Who Must Not Be Named still has ways of communicating with them, or he could not have enticed them to his side.  Even he cannot communicate with them well.  But this is not about them, or Him, strange as that may seem.  He already knows about Miss Rosenberg, as you should recall, or we never would have brought the two of you here."

      "Right …" Buffy processed that.  "So what _is_ this about?"

      "As I said, Miss Summers, our aspiring paparazzi Mr. Creevey is at Hogwarts at this very minute.  He is asking questions.  It would be better if he did not get answers."

      Buffy nodded.  If someone discovered that Willow was dating Harry, then they'd want to know everything about the mysterious girl who snagged the wizarding world's most eligible sixteen-year-old mop-haired bachelor.  That spelled trouble and every other word related to it.  "So what should I do, besides not talk to him?"

      "Just that, for the moment.  It's good that you didn't tell anyone.  I'll write to Mr. Malfoy this morning."

      "All right then."

      Snape grinned again.  "Actually, you've chosen a good way to leave the Tower.  It's likely our good Mr. Creevey is watching the main egress."

      "The what-grass?"

      "The exit."

      "Well why didn't you just say so?"

      "I just did."

      "Anyway," Buffy brushed that aside, "anything else?"

      "No, Miss Summers.  Just take care with what you do and what you say."

      "You know, I do know a thing or two about keeping secrets," she retorted pointedly.

      "Of course, Miss Summers.  See that you remember that."

      Buffy nodded, and kicked off.  Her mood had been sorely soured, but after a few minutes in the air, she started to feel better again.  She made a mental point to herself not to let Snape, or a nosy reporter, get her down.  However, she was growing uncomfortably curious about what others might have said.  Snape had said Mr. Creevey had a son in Gryffindor, most of the students who knew about Willow and Harry were Gryffindors, and, much as she hated to stereotype the Houses, the Gryffindors seemed to be the worst of all the Houses at keeping secrets.  They were all too honest.

      She found herself spiraling closer to the library.

      "'evening, Buffy," Hermione greeted with a knowing smile as Buffy approached.  "You're not the one I expected to see here."

      "I guess I'm not really the library type, much," Buffy admitted.

      "Did you want to talk to me, then?"

      "Well … yeah, kind of."

      "I rather thought so," Hermione stated smugly, as though she had solved a great puzzle.  She rose from her desk, and the two of them headed out to a little-used side corridor near the library.

      "I heard about Creevey's dad coming to visit," Buffy said simply.

      "Visit.  Snoop.  Whatever," Hermione said.

      "So he has been asking questions about Willow."

      "Well, no, because he doesn't know about Willow.  But I think he'd really like to."

      "Yeah, I kinda figured."

      "We haven't told him anything."

      Buffy breathed a sigh of relief.

      "Ginny, Ron, and I are the only ones who know.  They all understand.  I had to do a little explaining, but I think they get it.  Not even Seamus or Neville know."

      "Are you sure they wouldn't … well, do you think they might slip sometime, if Mr. Creevey's son …"

      "Colin," Hermione interrupted.

      "Right, if Colin started asking?"

      "I don't think so," Hermione sighed.  "Though it's always a risk."

      "Well, I guess … I guess you'd know better than me," Buffy finished diplomatically.  She wasn't sure she entirely believed that.  Ron in particular did not seem like the best keeper of secrets.

      Hermione laughed.  "I can tell you're worried," she said, "but don't be.  McGonagall talked to all of us last night in the common room right after we left the hospital wing—mostly about not talking about what happened to Lupin, but she talked to the three of us afterward.  That was why she had you take first shift over Lupin."

      Buffy breathed another, deeper, sigh of relief.  The woman was sharp.

      "So we aren't talking," Hermione continued.  "But … do you want to tell us why?"

      Buffy started.  "Uh, I'm sorry … what?"

      Hermione's eyes narrowed.  They had been walking gradually farther from the library, and Hermione drew Buffy into an unused classroom, checking to make sure that no one was watching first.  Buffy already had a bad feeling about where this was leading.  She had never seen Hermione act like this.

      Hermione pulled out her wand.

      Buffy instinctively put her hand on hers, though she did not draw if from within her robes, and Hermione raised her other hand placatingly.

      "Shh," she said.  _"Retrosurveilus."_  There was a light rush in the air, but nothing else happened.  Hermione gave a satisfied nod, and put her wand away a moment later.  "Checking to see if anyone's listening.  It's better than a Silencing Charm, because people can sense Silencing Charms active, so even if they don't know what's being said, they know people are talking about things they want to keep private.  The Counterespionage Charm is over and done with instantly, so no one walking by from here on will sense magic active."

      Buffy's eyes widened.  "Wow, check out spy girl."

      "Thanks," Hermione said.  "But seriously.  You aren't exchange students.  Willow told us neither of you never even picked up a wand before coming to England.  Your first time flying, and you fly as well as Harry, maybe even better.  Three weeks later, you're fighting a Death Eater and winning.  A few days after that, you pull off the Flaming Flood.  Ron told me you carried Lupin like he was weightless—and I know he's kind of scrawny, but he's a grown man.  Last night, both of you did something incredible, and the teachers all run around for the next few hours trying to keep it _out_ of the papers.  From the amount of details kept out of _your_ story in the paper, I can only guess what kind of details have been kept out of _hers_ … especially because one of the first things that happened afterwards was getting a warning from McGonagall not to talk about anything about Harry and Willow.  I hadn't even heard about the Atlantis yet, but I now see that McGonagall must have."

      "It was an attack on Harry," Buffy pointed out, though she had a feeling she was fighting a losing battle here.  Hermione had Willow's intelligence and seemed to have Buffy's detective sense.  "That kind of word would spread quickly, wouldn't it?"

      "Certainly," Hermione said.  "It's tempting.  It would be nice to simply accept the paper.  Harry defeated Peter and four dementors.  He's strong enough to do that.  I watched him defeat a hundred.  But that still doesn't add up.

      "I was with Harry the night we captured Peter.  Harry had just figured out that Peter had betrayed his parents, and still wanted to take him alive.  That piranha stunt is not his style at all.  Also … why didn't Harry stay?  Harry would have loved to capture Peter.  If he'd done it, he'd have stayed.  This story is all witness accounts.  No one saw the actual fight.  But Harry had to have been gone by the time the Department got there, or they'd have made him and Willow stay, and the _Prophet_ would have gotten their photographs.  So Harry defeats Peter, leaves the scene of the battle, and before the paper even breaks the story, I'm getting a speech about not telling anyone anything about it?  Think of the resources involved here … the Ministry chose not to investigate why Harry left the scene of the fight.  Details were kept out of the paper.  McGonagall found out about it within hours, maybe even less.

      "I could go on," Hermione said, her voice gaining heat, "but there's already more complete rubbish here than there ever was in Trelawney's class."

      "I get the picture," Buffy admitted.  Her mind was racing.  How in the world was she going to explain this?

      "Good.  That makes one of us," Hermione said pointedly.

      Buffy took a deep breath.  Willow had told Harry everything about herself.  Harry probably didn't intend to tell even Hermione, but Hermione was probably going to figure it out herself before too long, if she had figured out all this in one day.

      Her mind drifted back to a conversation she had had with Draco on the train to Hogwarts.  It was as good a place to begin as any.  "My hometown was on a Hellmouth … I think you call it a Dark Node," she began.

      Hermione's eyes narrowed.  "I see."

      "So I'd seen magic, and learned to deal with … unexpected things … and dangerous creatures, before I came to England."

      Hermione thought about that for a moment.  "I believe you," she said at length, "but it still doesn't explain the whole cover-up.  The teachers telling us you're exchange students when you aren't.  The papers hiding everything about you.  Harry risking Peter escaping in order to get him—and, more importantly, Willow—away from the scene."

      Buffy sighed again.  This was not good.

      Hermione's eyes suddenly widened, and an amicable smile crossed her face.  "Yes, well, the Patronus Charm isn't something you can just pick up out of a book.  It takes a lot of work.  Harry's been trying to show me how to work it for some time now, but it takes more than just channeling power and chanting _'expecto …'_"

      "Hermione?!" Buffy hissed softly, but before Hermione even had a chance to give any kind of explanation, the door of the classroom creaked open, admitting the stern figure of Professor McGonagall.

      "Ah, Miss Granger," the professor greeted.

      "Oh, professor," Hermione acknowledged.  "Um … were you looking for me?"

      "Actually, I was looking for Miss Summers," McGonagall responded.  "I'm afraid I'm going to have to steal her from you for a little while.  I understand your wanting to learn the Patronus," she said, turning to Buffy, "and with Harry gone and Lupin … well, Hermione is probably the best student to teach it, but you can practice it later.  I won't keep you too long, I promise."

      "Of course, professor," Hermione said matter-of-factly.  

      Buffy had to concentrate to keep her eyes from widening.  Hermione had to have been using some kind of spell to augment her hearing.  She had heard the professor approaching before even Buffy's heightened senses could have.  Her first impression of Hermione had been that the girl had been quiet, bookish, even a little naïve.  Even the other Gryffindors had said that they didn't always understand how Hermione hadn't ended up in Ravenclaw.  She reminded herself never to forget that Hermione was a Gryffindor, not a Ravenclaw, and the Sorting Hat had to have had a reason for putting her in the martial house.

      "I'll be in the library until dinner," Hermione mentioned as she excused herself.

      "Right, thanks," Buffy said absently.  Hermione vanished from the room.

      McGonagall waited until Hermione had had a chance to get some distance away, then turned to Buffy.

      "Has Professor Snape already talked to you?" she asked.

      "Yep.  I got the whole lecture," Buffy answered.

      "Good," McGonagall replied, "Fortunately, I believe Mr. Creevey has been able to take a hint.  Quite surprising, actually.  I think he will spend the rest of his visiting day here, but I do not believe he will return to bother you.  Or us."

      "Wow," Buffy answered simply.  She cocked an eyebrow at McGonagall.  "You didn't turn him into a newt or something, did you?"

      "Certainly not," McGonagall replied stuffily.  "Such things are completely against school rules.  And I am not Professor Moody."

      "Sorry," Buffy answered.

      "Fortunately, in a way, anyway, there _is_ a war brewing.  So I was able to convince him that Dumbledore did not want any reporters in the castle, or information about anything that goes on here—particularly about Harry—to get out.  Mr. Creevey, fortunately, is a strong supporter of Dumbledore and a former Gryffindor."

      "Lucky us."

      "Indeed.  This time, anyway.  However, I also came to say that it might be a good idea if you passed on dinner tonight.  Mr. Creevey will spend the rest of the day here with his son, but if he were to happen to see you at dinner … well, his reporter's instincts might just get the better of his good judgement."

      "Oh … OK," Buffy answered.

      "Oh yes, and in all the excitement yesterday, I nearly forgot.  Ten points from Slytherin for illegal entry into the Forbidden Forest."  She was smiling, however, and Buffy held her tongue this time.  "And another sixty points to Slytherin for saving the soul of a professor and a veteran soldier we're going to need in the months ahead."  McGonagall sighed, as though she couldn't believe the words coming from her own mouth.

      Buffy grinned.  "Thanks, professor," she said.

            *           *           *           *           *

      The sun was already setting as Willow awoke, and she still felt she had run a marathon.  For the sun to be setting already this far north, it had to be after nine.  She had slept for upwards of thirteen hours.  With a low groan, she realized she had managed to miss breakfast, lunch, and dinner in one fell swoop.  _And I didn't even get a doggie box yesterday,_ she thought wryly as she rolled up into a sitting position.

      Buffy was seated at the desk on the far side of the room, scribbling away on a piece of parchment, but the sunny-haired Slayer put it down as soon as she saw that Willow was awake.

      Willow gave her friend a wry grin.  "I guess I was kinda tired."

      Buffy grinned.  "Well, hope you didn't get too much rest, 'cause it's almost bedtime."

      Willow yawned.  "Don't worry.  I'll need it.  Keeping in touch?"

      "I guess so," Buffy sighed wearily.  "This whole letter-writing thing is a royal bitca, but it actually has a kind of old-fashioned British charm to it after a while."

      "You're writing?  Who are you and what have you done with my friend?"

      Buffy chuckled.  "I know.  Pretty soon I'll be moving up to bad poetry."

      "Does this happen to be on its way to a certain silver-eyed faraway prince?"

      Buffy sighed.  "Am I that obvious?"

      "No, I'm just your best friend."

      Buffy smiled.  "I was just sort of thinking I should tell him I dreamt about him, but then it just sort of grew, and now I sound all mushy and fuzzy like I'm back in high school for real again and I'm basically just babbling on paper."

      Willow gave Buffy a knowing grin.  She had been feeling the same way; she had a sneaky suspicion that the change back to teenagers had done something to their hormones.  "Life is short?  Seize the moment?" she prodded with a grin.

      Buffy rolled her eyes.  "Hey, it was supposed to be good advice …"

      Willow chuckled.  When she had actually been sixteen, she would have never believed she could laugh about a near-death experience, but she had had so many more since that first night of taking Buffy's advice at the Bronze—and getting a dramatic introduction to the world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer for it—that there was really nothing else one could do but laugh at those kinds of things now.  "Exactly.  You don't want to miss days.  Except when doing so allows you to catch up on much-needed sleepage."

      Buffy laughed.  "Well, on the bad side, you did miss dinner.  And lunch, and breakfast, for that matter.  But on the plus side, you missed some serious lectures by Snape and McGonagall.  Especially Snape."

      "Ick.  I think I'm going back to sleep."

      "You wanna eat something first?"

      "What?  Didn't you say I …"

      "I had to skip dinner, too.  A house-elf brought up some food.  It's a little cold by now, but it should still be all right.  The elf worked some kind of elfy mojo on it to keep it all the right temperature."  Buffy pointed towards a small tray near the door, bearing a modest portion of vegetarian lasagna, garlic bread, and tomato juice.

      "Sold," Willow replied greedily, putting a hand on her grumbling stomach as she pulled herself out of bed.

      "Thought you might like that," Buffy commented affectionately.

      Willow dove into the food with a vengeance as Buffy related everything she had heard from Snape, and then from Hermione.  Willow had long since finished her food by the time Buffy had finished her story, ending with a brief note about McGonagall's interruption.

      "Wow.  Heavy stuff," Willow breathed as Buffy finally fell silent.  She had managed to miss a lot in one day, it seemed.

      "No kidding.  I just sent an owl to Giles explaining, just in case anyone starts poking around Sunnydale.  Besides, I hadn't sent him mail in a while."

      "Good idea," Willow said, with a momentary pang of guilt that she hadn't sent anything in weeks, not since a few days after they'd arrived.  It wasn't that she didn't miss them, she had just been always horrible about writing letters.  In fact, she reflected, she'd never been the best at communicating in general.

      "And now Hermione's getting really suspicious of us."

      "So what do you think we should do?" Willow asked nervously.

      "I wasn't going to without asking you first, but she's one of Harry's best friends, and I think she's going to figure it out whether we tell her or not.  I think we should tell her.  At least a little bit."

      Willow sighed.  There was more than enough truth to that.  However, she had spent more time with Hermione than Buffy had, and Buffy's guess was more than spot on.  It was an understatement.  Hermione wasn't just the smartest girl in her grade.  She was the most brilliant student Hogwarts had seen in more than five decades, according to McGonagall, who was generally sparing with her praise.

      "I think we might want to think about skipping to explaining why we didn't tell her in the first place."

      "Meaning?"

      Willow lay back on her bed and began going through the mental routine she had learned over the years to relax herself.  She trusted Hermione nearly as much as Harry, especially because she was such a close friend of Harry's, but Willow had a feeling that they weren't going to need to worry about telling Hermione about themselves by morning.

*           *           *           *           *

      The moon was rising high above the horizon outside the windows of the restricted section of the library when Hermione finally slammed the last of the books in front of her closed and lay back with a weary breath.  She checked the clock on the wall.  It was after one.  She had been here for close to six hours now.  Even with Speedreading Serum, her access to the restricted section, and one special tool that few people at Hogwarts knew she possessed, it had taken a long time to find anything.  North America was a wasteland as far as most European wizards were concerned, and while anyone who wanted to study it there was free to travel there whenever they wished, very few wizards did.  Nevertheless, there was no better library of magical learning in the world than Hogwarts.  It had taken a lot of time and energy, and some expensive ingredients, but she had not come away empty.  Far from it.  In fact, if her brain could have absorbed any more, she was sure that she could have kept on going until morning.  Or longer.

      Buffy had said that she had come from California.  Earlier that evening, she had admitted to living on a Dark Node.  As it had turned out, there were actually two of those in California, even though there were only three in the United States.  

      Cleveland, of course, was the third.  That had hardly been a surprise.  

      A bit more surprising, though far from the greatest of the surprises that Hermione Granger had absorbed in the last few hours, was that Buffy Summers had lived in both of the others.

      Los Angeles and Sunnydale were both largely part of the Muggle world, and even Hogwarts had very little in its library in the way of Muggle Studies.  Hermione had an advantage over most of her wizarding competitors, however, that she had seldom used at Hogwarts.  It had taken her four years to develop an eldritch balancing field capable of protecting it against the normal effects of Hogwarts on such objects.  She was staring at the monitor of it at the moment, at an image of Buffy Summers from the Sunnydale High School Web site.

      Class of 1999.

      Her clock didn't tell years, but she was fairly certain it was 2002.  Someone in the sixth year at Hogwarts should not have already graduated high school in the Muggle world.

      She clicked that picture away as well, revealing another result, even stranger, from the _Sunnydale Reporter_ of May 23rd, 2001.

      "Funny," Hermione wondered aloud as she shut down her laptop.  "She doesn't look dead to me."

            *           *           *           *           *

      **A/N: **Hermione the super-sleuth on the prowl!

      Before anyone comments, it's been a while since I've read the books but I don't remember where, if ever, it said that electrical appliances don't work at Hogwarts.  If there never was any such interference, then Hermione obviously never needed to do that little research project to find a way to shield her laptop, but then again, she might have done some pointless research just for the heck of it, anyway …

      _CharmedChick …_ I completely forgot the man with the cheese!  Bloody hell.  He definitely needed to show up somewhere.  Maybe I'll work in another dream scene with an appropriate cameo.

      Thanks also to _ShadowElfBard, Peanut Gallery, pure insanity, Jadez Fire, DragonStar, Tiger Tiger2, Chrios, Silver Warrior, organized-chaos, Jedi Buttercup, ShawThang, _and _Kandice; _you guys rock and are a real help in actually getting the gumption to keep writing and finish a work like this.

      (Toast to fanfiction.net!)

      To the rest of you wondering if it were "really" Draco that Buffy encountered in her dream … knowing grin … :-D

      **Coming Soon: **Chapter 26, "Another Invitation."  A little bit more lighthearted of a chapter as Buffy and Willow respond to Hermione confronting them with typical Scooby aplomb.  Also, Buffy receives a little invitation to Malfoy Manor.

      **Sneak Preview:**

_      "So … what's the what?" Buffy began lightly._

_      Hermione let out a breath, then another, then another.  Then she smiled, and she shook her head resignedly as she took a seat beside Willow.  "I wish I could tell you," she said.  "But I got tired right about the time I found out that you _died_.  That looked like a good stopping point."_

_      "It is for most people," Buffy agreed lightly._


	26. Another Invitation

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 26:**

**      ANOTHER INVITATION**

      "Hermione's looking at us," Buffy observed.

      "Kinda noticed," Willow affirmed.  She had never thought breakfast could be so nerve-wracking.

      "Think we're going to have some explaining to do after this?"

      "Looks that way," Willow agreed.

      "Library after breakfast?"

      "Works for me."

      "Besides, I want to wait for the mail.  Just in case Giles wrote anything back."

      "You know, you only wrote it last night … even magic owls probably take a little while to get to California."

      A cacophony of fluttering wings and owl hoots above them announced the arrival of the morning mail.

      "Well, let's find out," Buffy said, clearing a space in front of her just in case.

      Willow nodded absently, her mind still occupied by what she was going to say to Hermione.  She did not intend to start out her relationship with Harry by hurting one of his best friends, but she also didn't want to give away so much about herself.  It would be interesting to see how much the Gryffindor prodigy had learned since the previous evening.

      Suddenly, however, Buffy unmistakably brightened beside her, and Willow turned to watch a large, regal great horned owl glide into the chamber just as the flock of owls was beginning to thin.  There was something almost imperial about the owl, the way the other birds around it gave it a wide berth and took special pains to get out of its way as it approached.

      "Is that whose I think it is?" Willow asked.

      "It … is," Buffy answered softly.

      The owl glided straight to the open space that Buffy had cleared, and inclined its head as if to thank her for not forcing it to tiptoe around as it landed.  There was a single letter attached to its leg, and Buffy reached out to untie it.  She gave the owl two entire sausage links before it left.

      "Been a while, hasn't it?" Willow asked.

      "Yeah," Buffy answered absently.  Willow gave her friend a probing look.  They hadn't talked about Draco much lately.  Apparently his absence was affecting Buffy more than she had let on, especially considering how the two of them had parted.

      Buffy slipped the letter into her robe.  "I'll open it later," she said quietly.  "Just in case … just in case it's news I don't want to hear."

      "Right," Willow empathized.  His last letter had largely been just a polite note to say that he would be longer than expected, but had included the hint of an invitation to his house.  She wouldn't want to open that in front of the rest of the hall.  On the other hand, she wouldn't want to wait to open it, either.

      "Library?" she offered.

      "Library," Buffy answered quickly.

      They hurried from the hall as quickly as they could make their excuses.

      Hermione was right behind them.

      "I think we're going to have to talk to her," Willow noted as they ascended the stairs away from the Great Hall.

      "Looks that way," Buffy agreed.

      "You think she knows what we are?  What's to come?" Willow asked.

      Buffy smiled.  "She hasn't even begun."

      They made their way to the library and occupied a sheltered alcove out of sight and earshot of anyone else.  Fortunately, the only other person in the library was Madame Pince, the librarian, and she stayed at the desk, far to the opposite side of the library from them.  Hermione arrived only moments later.

      "Hi," the Gryffindor girl said perfunctorily.  Willow took a good look into her eyes.  The girl had definitely found something.

      "You don't have a nothing face.  You have a something face," Buffy began lightly.

      "Mm-hmm," Hermione agreed.  She somehow managed to hum with a tone that said 'you are so busted.'

      "So … what's the what?" Buffy asked.

      Hermione let out a breath, then another, then another.  Then she smiled, and she shook her head resignedly as she took a seat beside Willow.  "I wish I could tell you," she said.  "But I got tired right about the time I found out that you _died._  That looked like a good stopping point."

      "It is for most people," Buffy agreed lightly.  "Which time?"

      "Which time what?"

      "Which time that I died?" Buffy clarified.

      Hermione's eyes widened.  "There's been more than one?"

      "What, you thought that Hogwarts was the only place where crazy things happened?"

      "Well, no, but dying twice isn't something that happens to even most crazy people."

      "Oh, no," Willow added brightly.  "But if you die twice and have to _sing_ about it, then you know you've really gone crazy."

      "I didn't find anything about singing."

      "Really?" Buffy asked, giving a disappointed pout.  "I thought that was one of my more popular episodes."

      "Not mine," said Willow, breathing a sigh of relief.  Hermione looked at her askance, and Willow clarified, "my singing was really off key.  I'm sure the critics would have really panned it if anyone had been watching."

      "Aw, you weren't so bad," Buffy comforted her.

      "Yes I was.  I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket."

      "Anyway," Hermione continued, obviously a trifle surprised at how they were reacting to her revelations, "there's also the little matter of your ages."

      "We do age well, don't we?" Willow asked, primping her hair coyly.

      "Hey, we could do cosmetics commercials!" Buffy's eyes lit up.

      "Or modeling!" Willow added.

      "Mmm, yes, Willow, I see you in black lingerie in _FHM _someday," Buffy laughed.

      "I don't really think I'd go that far …"

      "Guys!"

      "'People,' Hermione, 'people,'" Buffy reminded her.

      "Whatever."

      "Nicholas Flamel made us a kind of youth potion so we could blend in better," Willow explained.

      Hermione's eyes widened.

      "You don't believe me?"

      "No, I believe you; I just can't believe it."

      "Well said," Buffy complimented her.  "I don't really get it myself half the time."

      "If you get it half the time, you're doing better than me," Willow said frankly.

      "Well, we'll figure it out next time we have, oh, six hundred years to kill."

      "You're on."

      "All right, all right," Hermione said exasperatedly.  "Oh, and something else I found out that you might have heard before: _In every generation there is a chosen one.  She alone will stand against the …_"

      "Gyaack!" Buffy said before Hermione had finished speaking.  "Please!  I've been hearing that week in and week out for it seems like forever now."

      "Giles does it better," Willow observed sagely.

      "Grr," Buffy and Hermione said simultaneously, albeit for completely different reasons.

      "Oh, and it's _'a'_ Slayer now, not _'the,'_" Buffy clarified.  "There's two of us now."

      Hermione's eyes narrowed again.  "That wasn't in any of the books."

      "There are books about me?" Buffy said, her eyes widening, and a smile spreading across her face.  "Will, check it out, there're books about me!"

      "Maybe you'll even get a TV series someday," Willow quipped.

      Buffy wrinkled her nose.  "Like my schedule isn't hectic enough already," she countered.

      "Touché," Willow admitted.

      Buffy turned back to Hermione.  "After I died the first time, another Slayer was called.  Then I got brought back, but the other one wasn't Un-Called.  Then she got killed, and another one got called."

      "Unfortunately," Willow added.

      "Yeah, that one's rotting in federal prison right about now, something like twenty-five-to-life.  Murder, kidnapping, assault and battery, torture, general evilness.  Actually, no, wait!  They let her out when I had to come here.  Guess she's probably living in my house now."

      "Oh, splendid." Hermione rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

      "Isn't it, though?" Buffy's voice was sugary.

      "So why are you at Hogwarts?" Hermione pressed.

      "Learning."

      Hermione's eyes narrowed, her mind racing.  "Yes, I thought about that last night, too.  Learning.  Learning Occlumency, which probably means learning about something that's both very dangerous and very difficult to control."

      "Yeah, but I don't start that until the fall," Willow said.

      "Mm-hmm," Buffy chimed in.  "This summer it's just Flaming Floods and Thunder Arrows."

      "Maybe the Meteorus if we're up to it," Willow added.

      "Oh, that's _much _better," Hermione said.  "But I wasn't talking about your magic.  I was talking about something outside.  Harry uses it to block Voldemort's attacks on his mind.  At least, he's supposed to."

      "I think I'm supposed to use it to block … well, the kind of thing that happened to me when the dementors showed up at Diagon Alley."

      "So that was you?" Hermione made it much more a statement than a question, and Willow nodded.

      "And why didn't you stay at the Atlantis?"

      "Um … the waiter was rude?"

      "This isn't France."

      "Lost my appetite?"

      "Willow."

      "I fainted.  Harry moved me somehow.  I woke up at Ron's brothers' shop.  I don't know how I got there."

      "Right.  Yes.  Well."  Hermione threw her head back and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.  She looked back at them a moment later.  "And why all the cover-ups?  Why do they not want it public that you're here?"

      "Umm … well, I guess they just don't want too many people asking too many questions," Buffy ventured.  "I have no idea.  Snape told us Voldemort already knows that we're here, and who we are, and that we're a little young for … well, a little young for our ages."  That had sounded better in her head.

      "Hmm."

      "I think they kinda wanted to take some pressure off me," Willow said.  "I mean, I'm supposed to be learning here, not answering questions to cameras."

      "So you start dating Harry?"

      "Well, that kind of thing isn't entirely open to planning," Willow replied defensively.

      Hermione fixed both of them in turn with long, hard, pointed stares.  Then she leaned back again, and gave a soft, resigned laugh.  The tension in Willow's limbs melted away.

      "You should know that not all of the news about you online is burning and bleeding and dying," Hermione said.  "Amid … well, many more numerous accounts of you burning down gymnasiums and blowing up high schools, I did find this one on the Sunnydale High School Web page."  She tossed a photograph, which Willow noticed was a still photograph, not one of the moving ones in the magical world, onto the table between them.  It was a photograph from their senior prom, and under it was the caption "_Buffy Summers – Class Protector 1999_."

      Willow's eyes widened modestly, but the effect on Buffy was electric.  Her eyes misted over, and she put a hand to her mouth.  She reached the other hand out tentatively to take the picture.  A moment later, she had to turn away for a few seconds, and spots of red had appeared around the edges of her eyes when she turned back.

      "Wow," she sniffed.  "I … wow … I really didn't expect to see that here."

      Hermione looked like she had a witty retort to that, but somehow snatched it back from the tip of her tongue.  "I also noticed that, despite all the trouble you seem to get in, the death rate in Sunnydale seems to have dropped by nearly two-thirds since you moved to Sunnydale."

      Buffy smiled wanly.  "I do what I can."

      Hermione smiled.  "I know.  And Dumbledore obviously trusts you, and Harry … well, Harry really likes you, Willow."

      Willow smiled, color rising in her cheeks despite the fact that Hermione had not said anything truly scandalous.

      "Does he know you're twenty-one?"

      Willow nodded.  "I told him Wednesday night.  Pretty much everything."

      Hermione accepted this mutely.  A moment later, she stood.  "Well, I'm sure we could go on an on about this forever," she said, "but I think I've absorbed all I can in one day.  And … thanks.  For letting me in.  I won't tell anyone.  Even Ron," she added after a moment, with a skeptical look passing across her face at the thought.

      "Thanks," Buffy said, clearly relieved.

      "I'd trust him with my life," Hermione explained.  "But not with a secret."

      Willow laughed.  That was a fairly blunt way of putting it, but it did seem appropriate; in fact, it seemed appropriate for a lot of Gryffindors.

      "All right," Hermione said, drawing away.  "Thanks.  And … for what it's worth, I don't like having things kept from me … but it's good to have you here."  With that, the autumn-haired Gryffindor excused herself.

      "Well that sure could've gone worse," Buffy admitted.

      "I'd say so," Willow agreed.

      "Think she'll tell anyone?"

      "I doubt it," Willow said after a moment.  "But even if, I'm glad we told her.  Even if she hadn't figured it all out herself."

      Buffy nodded.  "I'm not exactly quaking in my stylish yet affordable, er, boarding school uniform.  And I noticed she found a lot more about me than you."

      Willow shrugged.  That made sense.  Buffy was part of a mystical lineage going back to the dawn of civilization.  Willow was … well, just Willow.

      "So are you going to open that?" Willow asked, nodding towards the fold of Buffy's robe where she'd tucked her letter from Draco.

      Buffy gave a nervous grin that said that she'd been waiting for that question, and withdrew Draco's letter.  A moment later, she took an exaggerated breath and tore it open.  She read it silently, blatantly ignoring Willow.

      Willow grinned patiently.  "So, you gonna read it or do I need towork my whole witchly mojo to get a hold of it?"

      Buffy grinned so brightly that Willow knew that it was not just because of her attempt at humor.  It was good news.  "Ah, well, if you insist …" Buffy began magnanimously, and she began to read:

      _"Dear Buffy,_

_      I know it's been a while.  Things just keep coming up here, and it's my responsibility as the heir of the family to deal with them.  Unfortunately, it isn't the easiest time in history to be a Malfoy.  Nevertheless, I apologize.  Father would never have tolerated such poor manners._

_      Your last letter was a bit of an eye-opener, if I do say so.  I've been bad about writing, I know.  I just had no idea what I'd say.  I promise I'll try to do better in the future.  However, if you'd rather do something a little better than writing, I could use some time off._

_      I've told Mother a lot about you, and she read about your fight with Peter in Hogsmeade.  She'd love to meet you.  If it's possible for you to get away from Hogwarts this weekend, we'd love it if you would like to spend some time down here._

_      If you want to come, just come by Floo to "Malfoy Lodge."  The gates of the manor have been sealed, so you can't come straight here.  I'll be up there on Saturday evening.  If not … well, I'll wait for you anyway, and I'll see you when I get back to school._

_      --Draco_

_      P.S. Not to sound paranoid, but it might be better if you didn't tell anyone you were coming.  Information is like currency in Slytherin.  You have to be careful when you give it to someone."_

      "Oh well, guess I already blew that last part," Buffy pouted as she finished.

      "Hmm … wonder what that kind of information sells for these days?"

      "Now, see, a good Slytherin would have blackmailed me here and asked what it would be worth not to have this spread around."

      Willow grinned.  "Sorry.  I forgot."

      "That's OK.  I forgive you."

      "Well, that's a plus."

      "Man, Saturday evening.  That's tomorrow night."

      "Prince Malfoy doesn't like to be kept waiting," Willow replied loftily.

      "I can live with that," Buffy replied with a conspiratorial grin.

      Willow matched Buffy's grin.  "I'm sure you can," she chuckled.  "Anyway, we've still got all day today and tomorrow.  Studyfest?"

      Buffy lowered her head in mock disgust.  "Only you could invent a word like that."

      "What can I say?  I'm evil," Willow smirked.  She only realized what she had said a moment later, but a moment after that, she realized that it didn't bother her so much.  Thinking of Harry was a universal antidote, and seeing her friend happy again helped as well.  Not having to lie to Hermione was a relief, too; Willow and the Gryffindor prefect were seeing a lot of each other, and she had always hated having to dodge the younger girl's questions.  The darkness of Tuesday night had receded to a distant point in her mind.  It was not gone, and she remembered that there was still a rather nasty wizard out there that would love to get his hands on her, as well as what she carried in the folds of her robe, but for the first time in some time, Willow was feeling alive again.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **A/N:**  Felt kinda whimsical this chapter.  Quotes and RL references galore!  Every so often I just have to do something like this.

      Thanks for all the reviews last chapter (both the quantity and quality)!

      _jennzabell:_ Thanks for the detailed review (and I'll really look forward to reading your feedback on other chapters)!  My only response is that I am deliberately avoiding "mini-Spike" references for Draco; I don't see a whole lot of similarities beyond the hair and, well, being British, and it's been done to death in other BS/DM fics.

      _ShawThang:_ Remus will be back but he'll be out of commission for a while.  Dementors = icky serious business. L

      _Philip _and_ Silver Warrior: _You are both right, Creevey is Muggle-born, that was a canon lapse on my part.  I was just thinking "reporter genes."  (Could he have still been half-Muggle?  For some reason, I've thinking that half-Muggle is as bad as full-Muggle, as far as most Slytherins were concerned …)

      _ShadowElfBard:_ ROFL Not too stalker-ish.  Just enthusiastic.

      _Seoid, Jillian Ryn, DragonStar, midoth:_ Thanks for the compliments on portraying Hermione; it's always difficult writing about really smart characters because you have to try to think like they would.  Not easy.

      Thanks again to everyone else who reviewed as well!  Made my week!

      **Coming Soon: **Chapter 27, "Malfoy Manor."  Buffy takes a little trip to Malfoy Manor.  All goes smoothly and wonderful.

      Yeah, right.

      :-D

      **Sneak Preview:**

****

_      "Oh?" Buffy was instantly curious._

_      Draco sighed.  "I believe I told you I've been kept here because of some unexpected things that came up, am I right?"_

_      "Yeah, though you weren't much with the explanations beyond that," Buffy agreed._

_      Draco sighed again.  "I certainly wasn't, and I hope you'll understand now that I am telling you: I think the treasury is haunted."_


	27. Malfoy Manor

      **DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 27:**

**      MALFOY MANOR**

      Buffy could hardly wait for Friday evening.

      She had spent the previous night and morning working on the Patronus Charm and studying dementoids … was that what they were called? … well, close enough … with Willow and Hermione, which proved a good way to while away the dull hours, and helped satisfy a little more of Hermione's insatiable curiosity.  Sooner than Buffy expected, however, it was time to leave, as she needed to budget time to get across the lake and catch the afternoon train to Hogsmeade, as it was impossible to use the Floo network to get out of Hogwarts; the fireplaces could only transport people within the castle.

      Willow accompanied her as far as the public fireplace at the Hogsmeade Station; it was as far as the redheaded wiccan could come, and only for a few moments, because the train didn't spend long at the station before heading back towards Hogwarts and London.

      "Well, I guess this is where we say goodbye," Willow managed a wan half-smile.

      Buffy grinned, and gave Willow a sisterly hug.  "Don't worry, it's just for the weekend.  Besides, you got your big day with your prefect."

      Willow pulled away mock-exasperatedly.  "I thought I told you …"

      "You did," Buffy interrupted, her smile brightening.

      "Well … OK, then."

      "Wish me luck?"

      Willow actually laughed.  "Wish _you_ luck?  Shouldn't I be wishing _him_ luck?"

      Buffy grinned wickedly.  "Hopefully," she said.  "If all goes as planned."

      "Oh, then I guess I had better wish you luck, then."

      "OK, that was mean."

      Willow grinned.  "Did I not mention the evil?"

      "Many times.  But that was just evil."

      The mirth faded from Willow's eyes momentarily.  "Oh, and I shouldn't have to say this, but be careful.  Bellatrix has her eyes on the Malfoy library, remember, if those wacky dreams mean anything.  Keep your guard up."

      "I'm always careful," Buffy reminded her pointedly.

      "Right.  And … what life are you at?"

      Buffy flinched.  "Hey!"  That was so unfair.

      "And … could you not tell Draco?  I mean, anything that would make him ask about the dreams?"

      "Of course not," Buffy assured her.  "I won't even warn the tadpoles.

      "Hey!"

      "Payback's a bitca."

      "Meanie."

      Buffy grinned and shook her head.  "Still, if I get a chance to look at them, I'm not going to pass it up."

      "Well, I know this may be the first time I've said this, but don't let studying ruin your weekend."

      Buffy's eyes widened appreciatively, and she smiled.  "First time for everything.  Oh, and … you, too."

      Willow laughed.  "Well, what else am I going to do when you're gone?"

      "You can always hang out with Hermione."

      "Good idea.  Then we can study all weekend without ruining it."

      "Oh, gosh, you're already ruined."

      "Ruined?"

      "Ruined!" Buffy said in her most expansive British accent.

      The train whistle sounded behind them, and they both realized that it was time to part.

      "Go for it," Willow said, motioning to the pocket of Buffy's robe where she was keeping the pouch of Floo powder they had bought from Ron that morning.

      "Right," Buffy said with a deep breath as she stepped into the fireplace.  She had seen the professors at Hogwarts do this all the time, but she had never had the occasion to try it herself, and she wondered if it would be different traveling outside of the castle.  Nevertheless, she was not afraid.  Everyone else was using it so matter-of-factly, and the wizarding world had had centuries to work out any kinks.

      "Later, Will," she said, waving to Willow with one hand as she 

      "Have a safe trip," Willow said.

      Buffy nodded, then enunciated, "Malfoy Lodge!" and tossed the grey powder at her feet.  There was a burst of wind and a fiery green flash, though no heat, and Willow and the rest of Hogsmeade station were gone.

      In their place, another room, almost as large, began to fade into view.  It was a long, low room that seemed to be nearly the entire interior of a round-roofed wooden building, supported by two rows of simple wooden buttresses promenading down the center.  The floor was smooth, polished wood save for the semicircle of brick around the fireplace.  The floor in the middle had been lowered to give a little more headroom, and in the middle of that lowered space sat a familiar, flaxen-haired youth on a small cot.

      "Buffy," Draco acknowledged with a light smile, though not the enthusiasm that Buffy had been secretly hoping.  "Welcome.  I'm glad you came."

      "Me, too, so far," Buffy answered his smile.  "Thanks for having me."

      "The honor is all mine," Draco answered formally, though his tone was casual.  He got to his feet.  "Well, we ought not to keep Mother waiting."  There was a note of hesitation of some kind in his voice as he said that, but he cleared it away quickly.  "Have you traveled by Portkey before?"

      "Can't say I have," Buffy admitted.

      "I didn't think so," Draco said, reaching under the cot and drawing out a large wooden chessboard with an extremely decorative set of pieces.  Buffy noticed that he took great care in handling it, holding it by the sides, which had been made unusually wide in order to be carried without touching the pieces.

      "Um … I really don't play chess," Buffy demurred quickly.

      Draco laughed.  "Best game in the world, but we don't play with these ones."

      "Oh?"

      "Portkeys are everyday-looking objects that are enchanted to take you somewhere if you touch them.  The object comes with you, too, so you can use it to return once it's had a minute or two to recharge."

      "And that chessboard is one?"

      Draco grinned.  "Not the chessboard, no.  But most of the pieces are."

      Buffy's eyes widened.  Somehow, she had always thought that something that sounded like a teleporter would look … well, flashier.  She might have touched one of those pieces by accident if the board had just been lying around a room—if she had played chess, anyway.

      "Wow," she said.

      "It's a family specialty," Draco said, grinning.  "Before I … well, before the rest of the family basically became financiers, we used to sell these to the other great families.  The pieces are enchanted with counterparts at other boards around the world.  The fact that Portkeys come with you makes moving multiple people difficult.  You either need a lot of them, or a huge one.  One of my ancestors designed Portkeys that change places with identical ones at the destination—and don't work if that counterpart is not at its proper place at the proper board.  So the heads of the great families could set up ways to travel all over the world virtually undetected … but ones that could be shut off in ways that Floo networks can't, not without destroying the fireplace."

      "Handy in Slytherin," Buffy noted dryly.

      "Handy to whoever can make them," Draco grinned.  "There's a lot more to them than that, I just don't want to talk about them all day.  But a full board would sell for upwards of twelve thousand galleons—and a few families bought enough to make entire networks, thirty-two boards at a time.  Even the lesser families would get eight or so each."

      Buffy let out a low whistle.  "That's one way to earn a living."

      "We did more than sell chessboards," Draco clarified proudly, "but these have always had a certain mystique.  They're just … well, they're just so _us._"

      Buffy laughed.  It did seem to go with the image of the Crown Prince of Slytherin, but she was more interested in the side of him that he didn't show so much.  She wasn't sensing it much at the moment, but he had been away from Hogwarts—away from her—for a long time.  She made a point to bring that other side out of him.  It was a stiff goal for a weekend, but she had succeeded against worse odds before.

      "Well, shall we?" Draco asked.

      "This should be interesting," Buffy answered.

      "The red king goes to the manor," Draco explained.  He gestured to the piece.  "Ladies first."

      Buffy shrugged inwardly and reached out a tentative hand to touch the king.  When she did, she felt a sudden pulling sensation behind her navel, and Draco and the lodge vanished just like Hogsmeade Station had vanished only minutes earlier.  There was no flash or sound this time, however; one second, she was standing on the floor of the Malfoy hunting lodge, and the next, she was standing in an alcove off of a truly enormous marble-floored room.

      There was a soft pop, and Buffy suddenly stumbled as Draco appeared right up against her back.

      "Whoops," she said sheepishly.

      Draco looked irritated for a moment, but quickly shrugged and smiled, taking a sweeping look around the grand hall.  Buffy couldn't suppress a smile.  She had always harbored an abiding dislike—she would never be envious, of course—of people so rich that they never knew the definition of want.  However, she had to admit that Draco was in his element here.  He seemed more confident, more relaxed, more at home.  Well, technically, he was at home, but that was beside the point.

      "Welcome to my humble home," he announced proudly.  "Come on, the view is great this time of the evening."

      Draco led Buffy out of the alcove, and Buffy got her first good look at the room, and her eyes widened further.  The room was at least twice the size of the high school gymnasium, with a high, vaulted ceiling supported by two rows of Corinthian columns of green and silver marble.  There was a large three-tiered dais at one end of the chamber and an imposing set of double doors at the other; numerous smaller doors opened in the other three walls.  A balcony ran around the room halfway to the ceiling, with elegant, curved silver staircases leading up to it at the far corners of the room.

      Draco led Buffy across the room and up the stairs to the balcony, stopping by a heavy curtain directly above the large double doors at the far end of the hall.

      "Thought I should show you this," he said nonchalantly, "just in case you were starting to get the impression that Slytherins are just scheming serpents with no eye for beauty."  With that, he raised his hand, and the curtain parted, revealing a wide marble balcony, and the land beyond bathed in sunset.

      "Now why would I get an idea like that?" she joked as she let him lead her out onto the balcony.  Her eyes widened again.  "Oh … my … gosh …"

      "Asmodeus Malfoy picked the spot because it was defensible, back before Hogwarts was even founded," Draco laughed.  "The next fifty generations worked on making it a little easier on the eyes."

      Asmodeus, whoever he was, had picked a good site, and his descendants had done their work, too.  Buffy wondered if the Portkey had somehow taken her into a fairy tale.

      The land fell away from Malfoy Manor in a series of seven terraces, with a wide stone staircase carved into the mountainside descending to the valley below from outside the great double doors beneath the balcony on which they now stood.  A winding path paved with massive flagstones as smooth as glass wound its way back and forth up through the terraces to accommodate anything that couldn't make it up the stairs, with wide plazas wherever the stairs and path intersected.  The topmost plaza, just outside the door of the manor, was the largest, sporting a wide circular driveway for vehicles to turn around, surrounding a wide fountain in the center of a crystal pool.  A small, picturesque village lay at the bottom of the hill, but did nothing to disturb the tranquility of the landscape.

      "I'm impressed," Buffy said simply.

      Draco laughed.  "I think it was meant to be impressive."

      Buffy nodded, turning to look sideways and up at as much of the house itself as she could see.  She quickly realized that 'Malfoy Manor' was not just alliterative, but an understatement.  It wasn't a manor.  It was a palace, dwarfing even the castle that had mysteriously appeared in Sunnydale when Dracula had come to visit.

      "How in the world does this place not get found?" she asked.

      "Magic," Draco said, as if it were obvious, which, Buffy supposed, it probably should have been.  "No Muggles can see it at a distance, and even those who get through the woods on the other side of Salazar's Crossing," he indicated with a gesture towards the village at the foot of the slope, and the thick cloak of trees beyond it, "will remember just a dream, if they ever leave.  I think Muggles write about them as 'faerie sightings' or some such hogwash."

      "If they ever leave?" Buffy asked pointedly.

      "Sometimes they stay, think they've stumbled on some kind of paradise.  Sometimes they go mad, think they've gone crazy.  Most just turn around and leave, though, and forget pretty much everything by the time they're out of the woods."

      "I see."

      Draco nodded, trying to gauge how she was taking this.  She kept her face neutral.  A moment later, he shrugged, and led her away from the balcony.

      "So do I get the grand tour, now?"

      Draco grinned.  "Trust me, we're just getting started—though I thought you might like to change first."

      Buffy looked down at her raiment; she had worn her Hogwarts robe because she didn't have any non-Muggle clothing.  Draco had been wearing his as well, so she hadn't thought anything of it.

      "I really didn't bring anything," she said.  She knew a spell to clean the robe, so she had just packed underclothes and sort of planned on wearing the robe the whole weekend.

      "That's quite all right," Draco said with a grin.  "Come on."

      Buffy suddenly had an image of herself dressed like some of the outlandish women she had seen in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, and firmly decided that she was not going to be seen anywhere, by anyone, and certainly not Draco, in getup like that.  "You—really don't need to," she demurred quietly.

      Draco laughed.  "At least have a look," he said mysteriously.

      Buffy let out a breath, ruffling her bangs.  "All right," she said, "but I must say that I'm not really much for—well, wizarding-world fashions."

      Draco laughed again.  "Trust me, the great families have slightly different tastes than the peasants you've probably seen so far."

      While she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about Draco referring to other wizards—apparently most other wizards, from the sound of things—as _peasants,_ she was curious.  Seeing that she was not objecting any more, Draco turned and let her out, along the balcony around the great marble hall, then away through a kind of sitting room, and down a short hallway out of that lounge with doors opening to either side.  He led Buffy to the closest of these.

      "This is the Embassy guest suite," he said, with a knowing smile.  "You're honorary nobility today," he said as he opened the door.

      Buffy let out a low whistle as she got her first look at the quarters Draco had had prepared for her.  It was the size of Buffy's entire house in Sunnydale, and exuded luxury of a level that Cordelia's wildest dreams could never conceive.  It had a full three bedrooms, each with its own luxurious bath, as well as a parlor, private dining room, and study, in addition to the main sitting room.  Another balcony opened from the master bedroom, offering a panoramic view of the mountains to the north, as well as the tapering expanse of valley below, dotted with orchards and vineyards.

      "Thought you might like it," Draco chuckled, noting her speechlessness.

      "Wow, I could just fall asleep right now and forget the whole grand tour thing," Buffy sighed, sprawling on the enormous canopied feather bed.

      Draco laughed.  "You're sleeping better than me tonight.  Visiting members of other great families stayed here, so we always made it as impressive as possible."

      "I'm so not complaining," Buffy practically purred.

      "Anyway, see if any of these are more to your taste than the latest in Diagon Alley," Draco said.

      Buffy sat up and turned to look.  Her eyes bulged.  Draco had opened the walk-in closet opening off the master bedroom, revealing rows of clothing that looked like it had been taken straight from a fairy tale.

      "I need to go change, too," Draco said.  "I figured I should probably wear my school things to meet you, but Mother would never even let me sit at the table dressed like this."

      "Oh … OK," Buffy said, not really nervous about being left alone, especially to change, but not really wanting him to leave.  At least, not to a whole different part of the house.

      "I'll send a house-elf up to help you with anything with fitting or getting into anything."

      "No!" Buffy answered reflexively.  The thought of one of those little things that looked half-gremlin, half-Muppet seeing her changing was more than a little unsettling.  She was taking everything as nonchalantly as possible, but that was pushing things a little too far.

      "Er … Miss Su … er, Buffy, everything in there was last fitted for the Countess Marvolo.  She had a few inches on you."

      Taking another look, Buffy could see that Draco was right, but she was unfazed.  She took a deep breath, and removed her wand from her robe.

      _"Aptaros,"_ she intoned, sending her power out in a wave.  There was a great rustling of fabric throughout the entire closet.  It was Draco's turn to be surprised.  His eyes widened in shock as the sleeves and hemlines of the nearest dresses shortened visibly, and the busts reshaped themselves.  Buffy took the opportunity of his surprise to steady her breathing.  Willow had explained the concept of radiating spells to her, but she had never had a real chance to practice it for more than five minutes, when they had jokingly practiced radiating Cheering Charms in Lupin's office and laughed about using it to liven up the Slytherin common room.  It took a lot out of a person, however.

      "That's … impressive," Draco breathed.

      "I can handle changing myself," Buffy stated, her voice tight because of the effort of keeping it under control.  She refused to sound tired, especially because she knew she would be better again in moments.  Slayers recovered from exhaustion quickly.

      He turned to look at her, giving her an openly reappraising look.  "I knew there was some reason I liked you," he said wonderingly as he excused himself.  Buffy's eyes narrowed.  There had been a surprising note of authenticity in his voice, which, under the circumstances, Buffy actually resented.  The whole keeping him company on the train when all of his friends were gone and standing up for him in front of the Gryffindor 'in crowd' wasn't enough?

      She resolved not to dwell on it, as she returned her attention to the wardrobe.  She quickly realized that she could spend hours ogling over some of the items on display.  She didn't want to waste too much time, but she didn't want to pick the first thing that caught her eye, either—especially because about fifty things already had, so it was too late for that, anyway.

      Her eyes eventually settled on a light, short-sleeved dress of green silk with silver accents that went well with her coloring.  It was cut in a classical style, save that it stopped just below the knees to allow a little more freedom of movement.  The torso looked to be fitted a little tight for her taste, but she had spent enough time goggling the Malfoy wardrobe, and it looked to be about as good as she was going to do.  Everything else was either too frilly, too long, or not at all her color.

      Buffy shrugged off her Hogwarts robe.  _"Apparelate," _she whispered.  The dress whisked out and settled itself around her and adjusted quickly, the laces pulling themselves tight across Buffy's back.  The air rushed out of her lungs for a moment; she had underestimated how tight it was going to be around her waist and ribcage.  There had been boning built into the dress that she hadn't actually seen before putting it on, and it had been invisible to the naked eye.  Her breathing steadied a moment later, however, and once she got accustomed to it, it wasn't as bad.  She added a pair of soft, fur-lined leather sandals to the ensemble; if Draco intended to show her the grounds, it was going to mean walking.

      She stopped to give herself an approving glance in the full-length mirror in the bedroom on her way out of the suite.  Draco was waiting for her down at the head of the stairs, a short distance down the balcony.  He had donned a decidedly regal-looking robe of silver-on-black that emphasized the brilliant flax of his hair.

      "Magnificent," he said as she approached, gazing at her with undisguised approval.

      "Hey, you clean up pretty well yourself," Buffy noted.

      "Well, thank you," he said, offering her his arm with polished courtesy.  Buffy grinned as she took it.

      They spent the next two hours touring the grounds; the landscaping behind the palace was even more spectacular than in the front, as there was no road there and the land had thus been sculpted purely for ornament.  The lower six terraces of the manor hill were a terraced water garden with waterfalls pouring softly from one terrace to the next.  A large formal garden graced the topmost terrace, just up against the back door of the palace.  It was nearly eight by the time they returned to the manor.  Draco had brought a small golden water bottle for each of them, but Buffy was still more than hungry by the time they returned to the manor.

      "Think the inside tour can wait until after dinner?" Draco said as he held the door open to let her back inside.

      "Definitely," Buffy agreed.  It had been a long day, and they'd done a lot of walking.

      Draco led her into a small formal dining room set just off the great hall, though 'small' was a relative term.  A long, heavy wooden table with space for eight occupied the center of the room, and at the head of the table sat a woman that she guessed immediately was Draco's mother.

      The woman rose formally as the two of them entered the hall.  She was dressed in a loose but elegant style that somehow reminded Buffy of what she imagined people wearing in ancient Greece.  "Miss Summers," the woman greeted.  "I've heard a lot about you."

      "Well … thanks, I think," Buffy answered, kicking herself inwardly for not thinking more about what she would say when she met Draco's mother.

      "Did you enjoy the little tour of the grounds?"

      "Well, it wasn't that little, but yeah, I enjoyed it," Buffy answered with a smile.

      "I'm glad," Draco's mother announced.  "Please, sit," she said, indicating a chair to her left.  Buffy moved over to take the seat, and Draco moved over to take the seat to his mother's right.

      "Thank you, Mother," Draco said as he sat.  "And, so as not to be a horrible host, let me do the introductions.  Mother, this is Miss Buffy Summers, whom you know all about by now.  Buffy, this is my mother, the Lady Narcissa Malfoy."

      That struck a chord somewhere in the back of Buffy's memory, but she couldn't immediately put her mind to where she had heard it before.  For some reason, however, her instincts were telling her that it was important.  _Narcissa …_

      "Nice to meet you," she managed absently, her thoughts still racing.

      "Is something wrong?" Narcissa asked.

      "No, no, I'm fine," Buffy answered quickly.

      "All right, then, let's eat," Draco said.  If he noticed Buffy's uneasiness, he gave no sign.  He clapped his hands twice, and a house-elf appeared from a small doorway in a corner of the room, a trail of trays of food hovering behind it.

      "Thank you, Zog," Draco said with a polite smile as the elf gestured, and the trays set themselves down on the table.  The elf vanished a moment later.

      Buffy ogled appreciatively at the food.  It looked like Thanksgiving had come early.

      "How's Deggle, by the way?" she asked.

      Draco laughed.  "He's on vacation, actually.  He should be back fairly soon, though."

      Dinner was generally uneventful; Buffy, Draco, and Narcissa made small talk for the most part.  Narcissa asked polite questions about where Buffy was from in America and Buffy tried to remember where she had seen or heard of Narcissa before while Draco took a bathroom break.  When Draco returned, he offered to show her around the inside of the house.

      "Sounds great," Buffy said, rising to her feet.

      "Splendid, then.  Mother," he acknowledged with a polite nod to Narcissa.

      "Have fun," Narcissa answered.

      Draco led Buffy back out into the great entrance hall, which had now been lit with a quartet of levitating crystal chandeliers, bathing the hall in a blue-white light that gave the impression of an underground sea as the light interplayed with the green veins in the marble.

      "This is the Hall of Wisdom," Draco explained proudly.  "Tiresias Malfoy was the vizier of Salazar Slytherin.  This was his seat, and the seat of Salazar's power in Europe.  Salazar himself lived in Alexandria."

      "Um … where?"

      "Egypt," Draco added patiently.

      "Oh.  Right."

      They continued on through a few more rooms, Draco filling her in on a few more outstanding details of his family history.

      "It used to be a lot more lively," he conceded as they walked through a small conservatory filled with all manner of strange herbs that Buffy had a sneaky suspicion didn't grow outside the wizarding world.  "Before the war started."

      "Yeah, but didn't you say your dad was on the wrong side, anyway?"

      Draco stopped and looked at her.  Buffy wondered if she'd said something wrong.

      "I might have," he admitted after a moment.

      "I'm pretty sure you did," she emphasized.  "Death Eater, all-around bastard?"

      "I … well, he's still my father," Draco finished meekly.  Buffy got the distinct impression that was not what he was initially going to say, but she let it pass.  It sounded like she had pushed a little too far as things were.

      "Anyway, down there's the residential quarters," he said, retreating back into his tour-guide mode and pointing down a hallway to their right.  "But in here," he said as he drew alongside a tall double wooden door of mahogany and gold, "is my favorite.  This is the family library," he said, pushing open the doors to admit them.

      Enchanted crystals set in the wall like torches began to glow dimly, then brighter, within the high, vaulted chamber, revealing three stories of shelves, and stairs leading up from there into what must have been an attic for overflow.  The floor of the main chamber alone had to have covered at least half an acre.

      "The Arcanum Malfi, it was called in elder days," Draco announced, pride and regret mingled in his voice.  "I told you our family were viziers of Slytherin.  We had lands, and servants, and money, but it was here that the true power of House Malfoy truly lay.  Until Salazar combined his own library with those of Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor, and Helga Hufflepuff to form Hogwarts, there was none better in all of Europe.  Heads of other families used to pay us just to allow their children to spend some time in this room."

      Buffy looked around again.  It was definitely large, and if she'd never been to Hogwarts, it would have looked immense, but it didn't really look like it was truly on a par with Hogwarts.

      "The Hogwarts Library has grown a lot since the school's founding," Draco continued, noting her look.  "Donations and all."

      Buffy laughed.  "Don't worry, I'm still way impressed."

      "I'm not trying to impress … oh, wait, I suppose I am," Draco concluded with a wry grin.  "Though, unfortunately, I can't show you the really impressive stuff right now," he continued enticingly.

      "Oh?" Buffy was instantly curious.

      Draco sighed.  "I believe I told you I've been kept here because of some unexpected things that came up, am I right?"

      "Yeah, though you weren't much with the explanations beyond that," Buffy agreed.

      Draco sighed again.  "I certainly wasn't, and I hope you'll understand now that I _am_ telling you: I think the treasury is haunted."

      Buffy's eyes widened.  "The treasury?"

      Draco nodded.  "And not by any kind of ghost, either.  Something really strong and dark, some kind of demon.  I think … I think Lucius might have let it in before he fled."  Something inscrutable, almost as if he were kicking himself for some reason, passed across his face as he said that, but he continued.  "I told you we've become financiers of late.  If it got out that we had trouble getting to the vaults, you can imagine what would happen to a lot, if not most, of our investments."

      "You don't use Gringott's?"

      "We do," Draco admitted.  "And Schwarzkobold's in Switzerland, too.  But we kept a lot here.  For the great players of the Great Game, it was always good to be cautious."

      "But something slipped through?"

      Draco nodded, clearly irritated at admitting it, even though Buffy realized that he was probably trusting her with something that probably only he and his mother knew.

      She made up her mind quickly.  "Let's go finish it off," she said.

      Draco laughed grimly.  "I like your enthusiasm, but … Mother and I couldn't do much against it.  I know you're strong and all, but this is serious stuff.  I don't want to see you get hurt."

      That only solidified Buffy's decision.  "Don't worry about me," she said flatly.  "I can handle myself in a fight."

      "I'm sure you can," Draco said placatingly.  "But I didn't ask you up here to fight."

      "I know," Buffy answered sweetly.  "That's just a bonus."

      Draco seemed to consider it for another long moment, then said, in a tone of acquiescence, "I'll go get Mother.  Maybe with three of us together …"

      "Fine," she said.  She didn't usually think much of fighting alongside others, but that was usually because the others became liabilities; she hadn't minded fighting alongside Riley or Angel as much.  She hoped that she wasn't overestimating Draco and Narcissa, but it sounded like they could handle themselves in a fight.

      "Right, then … just hang out here, I'll be back in a few minutes," Draco said as he turned and strode from the room.

      Buffy suddenly realized that she had a few minutes alone in the Malfoy library.  It wouldn't be enough for anything serious, she realized, but she could at least look for a section on dreaming lore.  She suddenly found herself wishing that she knew the spell Willow had used to absorb the knowledge in all the Dark Arts books at the Magic Box, but that was neither here nor there … not to mention it had basically overloaded Willow's brain.

      Nevertheless, she took the opportunity to wander around, letting her thoughts wander as well.  Thinking about dreams made her think about Lupin and his dreams again, and the dreams both she and Willow had been having since they had come to Hogwarts.

      Suddenly, she stopped as though she had been struck.  Thinking about dreams had sparked her memory.  She remembered where she had heard the name Narcissa before.  Willow had mentioned the name when describing a dream she had had.  But that Narcissa had been killed, assuming that Willow's dreams showed actual events.

      How had it gone?  Voldemort had killed Narcissa with one of those three super-spells that weren't in any of the books in the library.  Buffy's blood suddenly ran cold.  He had killed her because she had "attempted to warn her son of Voldemort's plans for him."  Draco.  Assuming this Narcissa and that were the same.  But could they be?  Obviously, this one was alive.  Could Willow's dreams have shown the future somehow?  That didn't seem right, though.

      "Buffy?  You here?"

      "I'm here," she called quickly, moving out from the shelves back into the open space in the middle of the main room.  Draco was already there.  His mother was with him, and they both had their wands.

      "Miss Summers, are you sure about this?" Narcissa asked.

      Buffy gave her a resolved stare.

      "All right," Narcissa acceded, "I can see you're set on this.  Just so you know you don't have to play the hero if things get rough.  Draco and I have already failed twice.  It doesn't leave the lower levels, so if you get back here, you should be safe."

      "What is it?  Do you know?"

      "I have no idea," Narcissa answered.  "Serpent-demon of some kind, perhaps."  Buffy noticed that her voice trembled a little as she said that, as though it were somehow difficult to say.

      Buffy's mind flashed back to when she and Cordelia had been captured by followers of the serpent-demon Machida.  She had been younger then, however.  She steeled herself.

      "Let's go, then," she said tightly.

      "I can't believe you're doing this," Draco said skeptically as he moved over to a bookcase against the far wall of the library from the main entrance.  He pulled out an enormous leather tome; Buffy's lips compressed as she noticed the title, _Avarice._  Draco set the book on a special stand atop the mantel, and the back wall of the fireplace slid open.

      He pulled out his wand again and took a deep breath.  "Here we go," he said, disappearing into the dark.

      Narcissa waited for a moment, then seeing that Buffy was waiting for her, she shrugged and strode through the fireplace.  Buffy's mind was still racing with thoughts about what Willow had told her about her dream.  Was this the same Narcissa?  If so, how?  It didn't seem possible—the Narcissa in Willow's dream was _dead_—but she had long since stopped believing in coincidence.

      There was a wide, sloped passage leading down to the left on the far side of the fireplace.  It was more rough-hewn than the rest of the manor, but the floor was smooth as polished obsidian and the ceiling was easily twice as high as Buffy's head.  As the passage went down further, it started to become less polished, more cavernous; Buffy could almost sense the sheer weight of the earth and stone above her.

      Gradually, another sense began to intrude on her awareness.  A darker sense.  She withdrew her wand from her dress.  She had a feeling they were getting close.

      A minute later, they rounded a corner and came to the apex of a wide semicircular chamber.  Two small ledges ringed the chamber, one at shoulder height, the other twice that, each with a trench filled with a fluid that burned heatlessly with a brilliant mix of silver and green light.  An enormous door lay in the wall opposite them.  The sense of evil nearby got palpably closer as they entered the room.  Buffy noticed Draco and Narcissa both tense visibly as they crossed the threshold as well.

      "This is it," Narcissa breathed heavily, approaching the door.  The room seemed to be affecting her somehow, or perhaps it was just the light.

      Draco's mother approached the door and put her hand on the latch.  There was a soft tone like a distant bell, and a web of light spread out across the door from her touch.  "There's only one more thing you need to know," she added.

      Buffy's eyes narrowed.  "All right …"

      Narcissa turned towards her then, and Buffy backed away a step.

      "Miss Summers," she said formally, mockingly.  "You are an idiot."

      She pulled open the door with a loud metallic creak, and Buffy gasped.

      A figure stood waiting for her on the far side of the door.  He was human, but at the same time not, with baleful, red serpentine eyes and a flat, snakelike nose.  He was clad in a robe that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.  Buffy's eyes, however, centered on his wand; it could have been the twin of Willow's own, and Buffy remembered all too well who bore a lookalike of her friend's wand.

      _"Imperio,"_ Lord Voldemort intoned triumphantly.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **Author's Notes:**  Oops! 8-)

      (Come on, folks, you didn't _actually_ think that Buffy was ever going to get to have a smooth love life and a relaxing romantic getaway, did you?  That would just be so out of character!)

      _musicgirl141:_ You were right about the other Slayers, I went back and changed that.  Good catch.

      To all my other loyal reviewers—_Kandice, ShawThang, DragonStar, organized-chaos, Rosie W, Silver Warrior, ShadowElfBard—_thanks again, as always, I love reading your feedback!  Newer readers/reviewers—_ChocolateKitten, Darkestmagick, jz, blondi gurl—_welcome aboard, and you chose a good time to pick it up; things get just a little bit more … active … from here on out.  Hope you stay and enjoy the ride!

      To all the others with me on author-alert … good to see your numbers swelling!  (I'll coax you out of the woodwork yet!) :- )

      **Coming Soon:**  Chapter 28, "The Vaults of Malfoy Manor."  Plot summary?  You'll finally find out why my beta reader compared me to _Lisette_ on more than one occasion.

      **Sneak Preview:  **HA!  Not this time, folks!  See you next week!  :-D


	28. The Vaults of Malfoy Manor

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 28:**

**      THE VAULTS OF MALFOY MANOR**

      Buffy's head swam as the force of Voldemort's Imperius Curse struck her, and she knew she was in trouble already.  Lord Voldemort's spells had ten times the power of Peter's.

      "Kneel," Voldemort commanded, and Buffy suddenly remembered what exactly the spell that Willow had mentioned from her dream had done.  She felt herself sinking to her knees, as though she had no more control over her own actions than a spectator.

      A moment later, however, she realized that her thoughts were still her own.  She was the Slayer.  She was not going to give up that easily.

      "No …" she breathed, already upon one knee.

      "Kneel!" Voldemort hissed again, more forcefully, and she felt the force of his spell renewed upon her mind, like a thousand serpent fangs tearing into the fabric of her consciousness.  But she would not let them penetrate.

      _"No!"_ she screamed again, throwing Voldemort's influence from her mind with a staggering effort of will.  Her breath came in gasps as though she had just run a marathon, however, and Voldemort seemed to have suffered nothing from having his curse resisted.

      _"Expelliarmus!"_ Narcissa shouted.

      _"Protego!"_ Buffy answered reflexively.  Her aim with her deflection was true; she sent Narcissa's spell straight at her master.

      _"Protego!" _Voldemort shouted as well, an arrogant smile splitting his lips.  Buffy's eyes barely had time to widen before the Disarming Charm was coming back at her with even more force behind it.

      _"Protego!"_ Buffy shouted again, barely in the nick of time, sending the spell back at Narcissa.  She was clearly not prepared for the spell to bounce around that many times.  The haughty woman's wand flew from her hand, and she tumbled backward.  Buffy was surprised for a split-second that Voldemort had not attempted to block it, but then she realized he was already chanting another spell.

      _"Stupefy!"_ he hissed.

      Buffy had no time to cast her own spell, but she was the Slayer.  She twisted aside with the speed of a pouncing cheetah.

      Too late, she realized that the spell had not been aimed at her.  A moment later, she saw Draco's Stunned form lying on the chamber floor.

      "I'm impressed, Slayer," Voldemort congratulated her.  "No one has withstood my Imperius in a long, long time."

      "Yeah, I don't go for the submissive role so much."

      "Typical American."

      "And proud of it," Buffy spat.  _"Iluvio ignis!"_  A shower of liquid flame sprayed forth from the tip of her wand.

      _"Terrandicto!"_ Voldemort barked.  A wall of earth burst from the ground in front of him, shielding him from the torrent of flames, and Buffy could not maintain it for long.  She was already mentally tired, but she couldn't afford to let him know how much fighting the Imperius had taken out of her.  If he hit her with it again …

      A soft, sharp popping sound in the air behind her warned her, and she dove out of the way as a jet of red light streaked by from behind where she had been standing a split-second earlier.  Voldemort had used the cover of the wall of earth to Apparate behind her.  Even though his sneak attack had missed, her escape route was cut off.

      _"Luminaris solaire!"_ she cried.  A burst of brilliant sunlight drowned the light from the flames ringing the chamber.

      Voldemort simply swirled his cape, the dark fabric absorbing the light like a black hole as it approached him.  He did not even flinch.

      "You're not into this, Slayer," Voldemort taunted.  He raised his wand and sent power radiating out from him in a wave.  _"Ennervate."_

      Buffy suddenly felt energy returning to her limbs, and her thoughts cleared slightly.  Her eyes narrowed.  Voldemort had used the Revitalizing Charm on her?

      _"Expelliarmus!"_ a voice called.

      Buffy was too surprised to react, and a moment later, her wand was blasted from her hand.  Dead silence fell instantly across the room, save for the deadening sound of her wand skipping across the stone.

      "Draco?" she breathed.  Voldemort had radiated the spell, reviving the Slytherin prefect under cover of revitalizing her.

      _"Imperio!"_ Voldemort cried again.  This time he threw his full power behind it, and Buffy was already mentally weary and too stunned to speak.  She felt the sensation of fangs on the surface of her mind for a brief moment, but they were gone a moment later, and an inexplicable calm settled over her.

      Demonic satisfaction glittered in Voldemort's eyes.  "Well done, Lucius," he said.

      "Thank you, my lord," Draco answered with a formal bow.

      "Now, then," Voldemort said, with practiced nonchalance.  He turned slowly to face Buffy again.  "I believe I said, 'kneel.'"

      Buffy sank to her knees, resting on the back of her heels, and folded her hands within her lap.

      Narcissa was on her feet again, and had regained her wand.  She looked more than a little furious, however.  She approached Buffy threateningly.

      "Stay," Voldemort commanded, and Narcissa froze.  "If I desired her hurt, she would not be breathing."

      "I'm sorry, my lord," Narcissa said tightly after a moment.  "Forgive me."

      "Of course, Bella," Voldemort replied patiently, even fondly.  "You have done well."

      "Thank you, Great One."

      Buffy's mind lurched.  _Bella?_  The name Voldemort had given Draco a minute earlier also began to creep back into her consciousness.  _Lucius?_

      "She begins to resist again already," Voldemort observed.  His tone was impressed, but cold, like a scientist marveling over a fascinating experiment.  "Magnificent."

      "I believe I noted earlier, I can see why my son is so taken with her," Draco noted as he approached her.  Voldemort made no move to stop him as he had Narcissa.  Draco genuflected down in front of her and put a hand on her cheek.  "Such power and beauty do not come through Hogwarts every generation."  Deep within herself, Buffy flinched.  

      Draco's hand and face began to change a moment later.  His hair lengthened, and his features matured.  Buffy would have gasped, had she been able to.  It was the man she had seen in her dream so many nights ago, the man that could have been Draco save older.  He chuckled softly.  "I was always good at acting, Miss Summers, as are most masters of the Great Game, but playing my own son was among the most splendid experiences of my career.  Oh, and I love your letters," Lucius Malfoy mocked as a parting shot as he stood and backed away.

      "Lucius, what happened?" a woman's voice asked from nearby, similar to Narcissa's but not quite.  Buffy was curious as to whose voice it was, but she had been commanded to kneel.

      "My apologies, Bellatrix," Lucius said earnestly.  "The flames of this room are enchanted to degrade magical potions and artifacts.  Polyjuice Potion wears off quickly here.  It stops anyone attempting to use potions or items to break into the vaults."

      "Yes," Voldemort interrupted, with a sinister smirk, "speaking of apologies to Bellatrix, you are not the only one here who owes her one.  Miss Summers, I would like you to apologize to Miss Lestrange."

      Buffy turned.  The woman who now stood before her was clearly not Narcissa Malfoy, though they looked so alike that they might have been cousins.  "I'm sorry, Miss Lestrange," her mouth said, while her spirit retched within her.

      "And do not meet her eyes," Voldemort instructed patiently.  "It is not your place."  Buffy lowered her eyes and stared at her hands folded in her lap.

      "Her resistance will grow, my lord," Lucius observed.

      "Oh, no, Lucius," Voldemort countered, a note of sinister pleasure in his voice.  "Peter was careless.  Crouch escaped because Peter did not know how to break his will to resist.  But resistance can be weakened."

      "Of course, my lord."

      Voldemort grinned.  "Bella, would you please go invite our other guests in?  They should have arrived at the lodge by now.  Lucius, please accompany me and our new guest to her new quarters."

      "Yes, my lord," Bellatrix and Lucius answered simultaneously.

      "Rise," Voldemort commanded.  Buffy rose to her feet again.

      "Come," the Dark Lord said a moment later.  Buffy followed obediently as Voldemort turned and led them back through the vault door.  A distant part of Buffy was surprised to see that it actually was a treasury; she had assumed that it had been just an empty room or dungeon they had taken her to.  Piles of gold, silver, and jewels lay strewn about the floor, sometimes organized in chests.  Shelves along the walls held magical artifacts of all sizes and descriptions.

      Voldemort led Buffy into a small, ornate stone room at the rear of the vaults.  A stone bench ran around the wall of the entire room save for the door.  Aside from that, it was nearly empty, save for a few items that had been set out on the bench next to the door.

      "Don this," Voldemort hissed emotionlessly, holding up the largest of the items on the pile.  It was a high-collared straitjacket of some smooth, glossy greenish-black material, though the sleeves were unfastened at the moment.  "Slowly," he added.

      Buffy slowly reached her arms up and began to pull the constricting garment over her head.  "Lucius, help her," Voldemort commanded a moment later.  Buffy gasped involuntarily as the garment settled around her.  As in her dress, there was boning built into the torso of the jacket, but this was far tighter and covered more of her torso; it was designed to be restrictive.  Lucius laced the jacket up as tight as it could go, and Buffy felt the air being forced even further from her lungs.  A moment later, he had fastened the sleeves behind Buffy's back with a strap connecting them to the collar.  The part of Buffy's mind that was still conscious recoiled at his touch; Voldemort was dry, passionless, almost sterile, but Buffy could feel Lucius' thoughts through his hands.  Had her will been all her own, she might have retched.

      "That will suffice, Lucius," Voldemort said sternly.

      "Of course, my lord," Lucius answered.  Buffy noted a hint of regret in his voice.

      Voldemort seemed to notice it, too, and it did not appear to please him.  "Now, Lucius, if you would, kindly go and fetch my carpet bag from the master bedroom.  And close the door behind you."

      "Y … yes, my lord," Lucius said, departing quickly from the room.

      "Alone at last," Voldemort smirked, letting his spell dissipate.  Buffy's mind was freed.

      She immediately leapt and aimed a flying kick at Voldemort's head.

      _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ Voldemort snapped contemptuously.  Buffy froze, hovering in midair.

      "Amazing what one can do with such simple spells, is it not, Miss Summers?" he asked softly, walking slowly around her.  She did her best to turn to keep him in sight, but her range of movement was extremely limited by her bound arms and the fact that she was floating in midair.

      "Why did you let me out?" Buffy asked as he circled back in front of her.

      Voldemort laughed. "I have always been rather fond of American.  I refuse to call it 'English,' of course.  Do you really feel I've 'let you out?'"  As if to emphasize the point, he flicked his wand contemptuously, and Buffy was suddenly spun upside down.  She struggled instinctively, but the jacket held fast, and her kicking legs caused her dress to fall down around her waist.  She bit back a piercing scream from the tip of her tongue, determined not to give him that satisfaction, fixing him instead with a truly defiant stare.

      "Calm yourself," Voldemort hissed, noting her look, turning her right-side-up again.  "My … human appetites … cooled long before you were even born."  He began to walk around her again.

      "Do you like my handiwork?" he asked, positioning himself behind her so that she couldn't see him no matter how hard she tried to crane her head.  He ran a thin, bony hand up one of her arms.  "I've heard it takes quite a lot to restrain a Slayer, though I've never had the pleasure of trying before now.  I managed to work basilisk hide into the material, from the shed skin of a creature that used to live in the dungeons of Hogwarts.  Magic-resistant and nearly impenetrable."  He chuckled wickedly.

      Buffy realized that he was not going to let her look at him, and she was just emphasizing her helplessness by trying pointlessly.  She schooled her features to complete neutrality, and forced herself to look straight forward.  She kept her voice perfectly level.  "When I get out of here," she said.  "You're going to need a hole a lot deeper than this to hide from me."

      "Good," he breathed, as though marveling at a favored pet.  "The discipline of a Slytherin, and the spirit of a Gryffindor.  I can understand the Hat's difficulty in deciding where you belonged."  He came around to face her again.  "Such eyes," he added, noting the emerald fire behind them.  "I can see that you've earned your reputation."

      "Thanks," Buffy seethed.

      "Unfortunately for you," Voldemort continued sanguinely, continuing his slow, vulture-like walk around her, "I have also earned mine."  This time, as he was behind Buffy, he pulled a heavy blindfold down across her eyes.  Not so much as a glimmer of light reached her.  A moment later, he pulled a gag between her teeth as well, not a piece of cloth, but something that felt like it was made of a similar material to the straitjacket, designed for the purpose.  She struggled against him momentarily, but it did her no good for long.

      "I know several spells that accomplish much the same ends," Voldemort noted clinically.  "But there is something about the physical feel of restraint that works a magic all its own.  Don't you agree?"

      "Gmmph hmm hmmll."

      "Such defiance," Voldemort laughed.  "It should be interesting to see how long it lasts."

      Suddenly, Buffy became aware of a cold sensation beginning to creep across her flesh.  At first, she thought that Voldemort had used magic on her again.  A moment later, however, she heard the vault door open, and the rustle of coarse robes and the cracking of dry, cadaverous flesh.

      The moment the door opened, memories suddenly leapt back into her mind.  She suddenly felt as though she were walking herself through a dream.  Giles' phone call informing of her of Jenny's death suddenly started playing through her mind.  Then she was back at her house, cradling her mother's body in her arms.  She could feel the dementors standing nearby, but they were as immobile as statues now, and were ever silent, letting their mere presence work its horrible work.

      "The blindfold magnifies their effects magnificently, doesn't it?" Voldemort asked.  She could hear the smirk in his voice, but he was right.  Denied her voice and her eyes, suspended in midair, there was no sensation to latch onto to shield herself from the force of the memories the dementors were calling up from within her—nothing but the dark lord's own voice, which gained a kind of hypnotic quality when it was the only input from the real world she could get.

      "Don't worry," Voldemort practically crooned.  "Lucius will be back soon with the boggart in my bag.  Their powers blend with those of my dementors like a symphony of darkness.  This should be quite interesting indeed.  It's quite a walk to that end of the manor and back, though, so I brought some reading material.  I do hope you enjoy it."

      He began to read aloud, then, and Buffy bit back a furious, hopeless curse.

      _"Hey Drake,_

_      Thanks for writing.  Good to know you're still out there, even if you're gonna have to stay down there a while longer.  I'd love to come down and visit sometime … I haven't gotten to see a whole lot of Britland, Muggle or not._

_      I never got a chance to say sorry for that day on the tower.  I know I still meant what I said, but I really didn't mean for it to come out like that, and it's been bugging me that you left without giving me a really good chance to say sorry.  I really don't want something like that getting in the way of being friends._

_      And now I'm just babbling on paper._

_      Willow says hi._

_      Hope everything's working out OK at home—if only so you get to come back soon.  I really miss you.  It was good to have a friend like you at Hogwarts.  I really wish we'd had a chance to spend more time together.  I was really getting fond of you before you took off, and there really isn't anyone else like you in all of Slytherin—all of Hogwarts, even.  Hope to see you again soon, wherever._

_      Best,_

_      B."_

It was her last letter to Draco.__

Buffy was hissing through the gag as Voldemort finished reading, but the material was both soft and firm and seemed to absorb sound like a sponge.  Also, the fact that she had to devote half her attention to choking back tears didn't help her defiance.

      Voldemort chuckled.  "Well, I'm glad you did get the chance to come down and visit," he said.  "And I believe everything is working out quite well at Malfoy Manor, if I do say so.  And I assure you we will get to spend a _lot_ of time together."

      _Bastard, _Buffy tried to say, but all that came out was "Bhhhhrrrd."

      "Now, now, do mind your manners," Voldemort chided.  "You shouldn't be ashamed of your own words.  And I think you made a fine choice in young Draco, if I may say so."  He lowered his voice suggestively.  "Unfortunately for you, I reached him first."

      _No!_  Buffy screamed into the silence of her mind, though she had known in the back of her mind that something must have happened to him.

      _What did you do?!_  "Uhhh ih oo oo?"  At the moment, she was almost glad of the gag, as she wouldn't have trusted her voice had it been available to her.  The effects of the dementors in the room, combined with the lack of anything visual to latch onto, magnified all the horrible possibilities that were suddenly springing into her mind.

      Voldemort laughed again.  "Now, now, use your imagination.  You'll have a lot of time down here to think for a while.  An idle mind is a terrible waste, after all."

      _Bastard,_ Buffy thought again, but all kinds of horrible things were already running through her head.  There was a distant corner of her mind that said that something in Voldemort's voice suggested that Draco was still alive, and her heart told her that that was still the case as well, but it was hard to believe.

      "In fact, I think it's only fair to give you something else to think about, since dementors make somewhat lonesome company.  I received this one just a few days ago, after dear Mr. Creevey started poking around Hogwarts … Snape uses outstanding encryption charms, but I'm rather good at breaking them, if I may be so conceited:

      _"Mr. Draco Malfoy:_

_      Greetings._

_      A reporter for our esteemed newspaper, the _Daily Prophet_, was recently on campus asking questions that we would prefer remain unanswered.  Fortunately, the information in question is not widely known.  Miss Summers informs me that you are one of the few who are privy to it._

_      The … relationship … between Miss Rosenberg and Mr. Potter is _not_ to be revealed, discussed, traded, or even intimated in any manner to anyone who is not a member of the Hogwarts staff.  This is a non-negotiable directive, and since you are inevitably calculating what the information is worth now, let me remind you that few advantages in the Game are worth more than the ire of the entire staff, including myself and Dumbledore.  Any evidence of inappropriate conduct with regards to this information will be grounds for immediate dismissal._

_      Most cordially,_

_      Severus Snape_

_      Faculty Head, Slytherin House"_

      "I had suspected that Miss Rosenberg had somehow been present in Diagon Alley when my dementors attempted to take the map from the Potter boy.  Communicating with them is an uncertain affair at times, and Mr. Pettigrew was rather unavailable afterward, but I sensed from them that they were foiled by darker and stronger magics than anything the Potter boy possesses.  Strange times we live in.  I was surprised enough that that fool Dumbledore somehow let Miss Rosenberg out of his sight.  But this … well, I'm sure I don't need to prattle on and on about the whole world of possibilities that this opens, do I?"

      _Bastard bastard bastard bastardbastardbastardbastardBASTARD!!!_

      The sound of the door opening distracted Voldemort from his monologue.

      "Your bag, my lord?" Lucius' obsequious voice ventured.

      "Ah, yes, indeed.  Thank you, Lucius.  Though, on second thought, I'll return to it in a little while.  Perhaps a drink?  I believe the dementors will need some more time to work, anyway, before she is really ready to face a boggart.  This should be very interesting.  Yes, Miss Summers," he added for her benefit, "Slayers are strong, but anything can be broken."

      There was a sharp snapping sound, followed by a short, curtailed ripple of power throughout the chamber.  Buffy realized that Voldemort had snapped her wand in two to emphasize the point.

      "By the way," Voldemort gloated, backing away to the door.  "I like your dress."

      Behind the blindfold, Buffy began to cry.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **A/N:**  So all of you who were wondering if Draco had really joined the dark side or was just being fooled/controlled were a little off base … 

      … and the grand prize goes to _Jedi Buttercup _for noticing the little bit of foreshadowing in the last chapter about the real identity of "Draco!"

      _Silver Warrior, Anne, mpe, _and others that wondered if the Imperius would work on Buffy or not: remember that we know from canon that powerful mind-control magic _can_ affect the Slayer ("I Only Have Eyes For You," "Where the Wild Things Are," etc.), and the Imperius is about as strong as they come.

      And, of course, the big question now … where … is … Draco?  Hee hee hee … [ominous drumroll] …

**      Coming Soon:** "Learning to Stand Alone."  Willow has no idea what has just happened, so life continues as usual at Hogwarts … but how will Voldie & Co. explain the fact that Buffy won't be returning on schedule?  Also, Willow gets a little lesson in the ins and outs of the Slytherin Great Game from a _very_ old hand at it.

      **Sneak Preview:**

****

_      "Lonely?" a voice asked._

_      Willow turned to see the Bloody Baron seated beside her.  "They make you sit at the end of the table, too?" she asked._

_      The Baron chuckled grimly.  "I sit where I wish," he said.  "As could you, if you wished."_****


	29. Learning to Stand Alone

      DISCLAIMER:  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 29:**

**      LEARNING TO STAND ALONE**

      Willow was lonely.

      Sunday morning had dawned; it seemed like much more than a day since Buffy had left.  They had only been apart once this summer, and the bite of separation had not been so harsh when she was with Harry.  She sought the company of Hermione and Ron whenever she could, but they could neither sit with her at meals nor visit her in the Tower, and she was not naturally a very outgoing person.  She found herself spending a lot of time in her room, trying to avoid as many of the other Slytherins as possible.  Without Buffy here, she felt vulnerable; Buffy seemed to have a knack for the politics within the House, and a force of personality that convinced people to leave the two of them alone.

      She was seated at the desk in her room, writing another letter to Harry.  They had exchanged two apiece already since the previous Tuesday, and they had been the high points of her weekend.  Harry had apparently stopped caring whether or not his mail was being watched; his letter to her were getting more and more beautiful, so much that affection seemed to radiate from them at times.  Writing to him now, she was beginning to understand why; he had been completely alone amid a hostile crowd at the Dursleys all summer.  She hadn't even made it two days in a similar situation before she was straining for something to hang on to.

      The bell tolled for breakfast, and Willow sighed and put down her quill.

      The trip down to the Great Hall seemed to have grown longer with every meal since Buffy had left.  She felt like there were eyes on her from every direction.  She had never been good at keeping secrets, and she felt like she was keeping more secrets than an Egyptian tomb at the moment.  She felt as though the guilt had to be written in her face whenever anyone so much as met her eyes.

      She reached the hall at last, and took her customary seat at the end of the table.  There was no point in trying to sit anywhere else; you had to play power games to move up towards the head of the table, and she hadn't the faintest of idea of how to do it.  Sitting down with the first-years was her way of acknowledging that she wasn't pursuing anyone's place at the table; she had a feeling that there was some way she could have had she wanted to, since Draco had actually invited her to the head of it once—though that had been more for Buffy than her—but she had no clue how she would play the Slytherins' Great Game on her own.

      "Lonely?" a voice asked.

      Willow turned to see the Bloody Baron seated beside her.  "They make you sit at the end of the table, too?" she asked.

      The Baron chuckled grimly.  "I sit where I wish," he said.  "As could you, if you wished."

      Willow laughed wryly.  "What?  Go up and push Millicent out of her seat?" 

      "Perhaps not so directly," the ghost mused.  "But you've already been invited to the head of the table once.  You could move up fairly near Millicent whenever you wished."

      Willow gave him an honestly puzzled look.  "Why would I want to do that?"

      The dour-looking ghost suddenly laughed uproariously, drawing more than a few questioning stares from up the table.  "Understandable," the Baron admitted a moment later.  "But you'll find that the Game is hard to escape."

      "I'm doing everything I can," Willow said.

      "Precisely," the ghost said, smugly, as though he had just made a point.  "And everyone can see that, which means that you are playing the Game.  Visibility is a measure of influence, and you've made yourself visible by placing yourself down with the first-years, despite being a sixth-year, second in points, and an ally of the current leader."

      "She's a friend," Willow corrected him.  She wasn't as annoyed as she sounded, though; it was nice to have someone to talk to, even a dead person.

      "Not in their minds," the baron said with a nod towards the head of the table.

      Willow shrugged.  "They don't know me very well, then."

      "No one does," the baron explained.  "Which is another reason you're playing the game without realizing it.  Being an unknown can be both an asset and a liability."

      Willow put her hands to her temples.  "Ergh.  This stuff makes my head hurt."

      "Perhaps an example?" the Baron asked, detecting an opening, and Willow realized that he was more perceptive than he looked.  She really was curious, even if she had no intention of playing this 'Game' herself.  She looked at him, and realized that he was looking up the table.  She shrugged in acceptance a moment later, and followed his eyes as best she could.

      "Look at young Vincent," the baron said.  It took Willow a moment, since she hadn't spent much time learning the other Slytherins' names, but eventually she spotted the child he meant.  She remembered the solemn, vaguely Italian face of Vincent Byron from the Sorting ceremony.  He was seated perhaps nine people down the table from where the line of Slytherins playing the Game actually began; Willow had separated herself by several yards along the bench.

      "Young Mister Byron started near the bottom," the baron explained.  "Vincent's father was a Ravenclaw who married a—well, a rather rebellious daughter of the ancient Giovanni family in Florence."

      Willow accepted this mutely, remembering quickly from one of her History of Magic textbooks that the Giovanni were one of the greatest families on the European continent, though most of their children went to either Beauxbatons or Durmstrang.

      "He's showing a lot of promise," the baron explained.  "And the more he succeeds, the more people will remember that he is the son of a Giovanni and not the fact that his mother was all but disinherited and his father was a peasant.  The lad is good.  He's won six points for Slytherin already, which is excellent for four weeks in summer session."

      "So he's moving up," Willow guessed, actually enjoying the lesson, but wondering where it was leading.

      "Indeed," the Baron agreed.  "But the important thing for you here that you ought to keep in mind is that he's sandbagging."

      "Um … OK …"

      "He could sit two or three places further up the bench if he wished," the baron explained.  "Just by getting up, moving up a few places, and asking to sit down.  The others would shift down to make room for him."

      "Maybe he doesn't feel ready yet?"

      "Oh, no," the ethereal figure chuckled grimly.  "His mother has taught him well.  You see, he knows that those six people or so ahead of him … three on either side of the table … are, like most Slytherins, very attached to their place at the table.  He's risen ten places already in four weeks.  The next few know that he could pass them at any time.  However, by allowing them to keep their places at the table, he gains a measure of influence over them."

      "All right …" Willow shrugged.  She couldn't help thinking that maybe Vincent just felt like sitting where he was sitting.  Maybe there was a girl nearby that he liked—did eleven-year-old boys like girls?  Or was he still at the cootie stage?  Or maybe he had a few friends that he wanted to sit beside.

      "So he's sacrificing status in the eyes of the rest of the House," the Baron explained, "in exchange for influence over those six.  Perhaps only one or two of them.  Or, perhaps, over none of them at all, but simply to keep some people higher up the table from guessing at his motives."

      Willow took another look at the solemn eleven-year-old.

      "So … what does this have to do with me?" Willow asked.

      The Baron grinned.  "Vincent is sandbagging four, maybe six places," he said.  "How many are you?"

      "None," Willow answered immediately, but with a sinking feeling, she realized where the Baron was headed.

      "Fine, fine, have it your way," he explained patiently.  He seemed to realize she had gotten the point, because his grin took on a knowing look.  "How many do you think that they think that you're sandbagging?"

      She looked up the table.  Draco had invited her to sit at the head of the table, but that was when she was with Buffy, and the two of them together had scored fifty-five points in a day.

      "A few," she admitted, realizing that she was making an understatement.  "More, if Buffy comes back and they're all about these 'alliances.'"

      The Baron inclined his head to her in a measure of respect, as though she had just learned an important lesson.  "They are indeed, Miss Rosenberg, they are indeed.  But don't underestimate yourself as an individual.  You've played almost none of your cards, but do you really think Bulstrode could stand against you in a duel?  Barclay?  Gandersworth?  Avery?  Sheffield?  Delacroix?  Sloan?"

      Willow hesitated, on the verge of stating the obvious, that she was not about to go around challenging people to duels.  But that was clearly not the Baron's point.  "I'm not sure," she admitted.  "I'm only halfway through the third-year stuff, but yesterday in the library, I browsed through one of the seventh-year books and found the Draconian Contra.  I've done that one."

      "And you've already shown more power than anyone who's never taken the dueling floor or attended a single class.  What you did with Torrence was not only noble, but impressive.  Malfoy might have been able to pull that off.  Bulstrode and a few of the other prefects, possibly.  No one else.  And what you did to Peeves was absolutely magnificent," he added as an afterthought, with a feral laugh.

      "So I sit down here because I don't want to fight anyone, and all they do is think about how I might want to fight them someday?"

      "Pretty much," the Baron admitted cheerfully.  "Oh, mail's here!" he quipped, glancing upward at the flock of owls entering the room.  A moment later, his eyes widened.  "I think you've just won another status point, if that's coming to whom I believe it is."

      "Huh?" Willow asked, but a moment later, she saw what he had.  The Malfoy great horned owl was ghosting in above the rest of the flock, soaring like an eagle above the smaller, younger, more exuberant birds below.  It waited until the flock had thinned a little before circling down to land and deposit an envelope and a newspaper at Willow's place.

      "Umm … thanks," she said.  "Didn't expect to see you here."  The Baron chuckled beside her, and whispered softly in her ear, "well done."  The owl cocked its head at her curiously, and she cocked her own at the ghost, but then she understood.  She had just casually addressed the Malfoy owl—the owl of the current ruler of the Slytherin roost.  That had to be a status play of some kind.  Everything was, after all.

      "I just can't win," she whispered back to the Baron self-depreciatingly.  Being a vegetarian, she didn't have any meat on her own plate to give it, so she levitated a small piece of beef out of a nearby soup cauldron over to the owl in payment.  It accepted it with a grateful hoot, and Willow couldn't suppress a smile.  The owl was the only creature at the table whose appetites she could understand.

      She glanced at the letter.  It was from Buffy.  She supposed she should have expected that; it didn't seem likely that Draco would be sending her anything, but Buffy was going to be home that night.  She wondered what was so important that she had to have heard about it in the morning.  She slipped it open and read.

      _Hey Willow,_

_      It's been a rough weekend up here.  I think I'm going to have to stay up here for a while.  Drake's going to need me.  Check out page 3._

_      Hugs,_

_      Buffy_

Willow read the letter again, and then a third time.  A while?  How long was a while?  Another day?  Days?  A week?  Weeks?  Nervously, she unrolled the _Daily Prophet_ that the owl had brought her, and turned to page 3.  Her eyes widened in shock.

Narcissa Malfoy Murdered

      _MALFOY MANOR — Lady Narcissa Malfoy, wife of revealed Death Eater Lucius Malfoy and dowager of one of the wealthiest families in Britain, was attacked and killed on Saturday afternoon, Department of Magical Law Enforcement officials confirmed last night.  The attack occurred just after nightfall during the Lady Malfoy's evening walk in the manor gardens.  It is not known how the attackers got within the grounds, or if they escaped with anything of value._

_      There were signs of a short struggle, but DMLE investigators say that it appears to have been extremely one-sided.  Narcissa's body was burned with the rare Flaming Flood, a powerful weapon researched by Sirius Black in his seventh year at Hogwarts._

_      Lady Malfoy is survived by one son, Draco, 16, a prefect of Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Draco was spending the summer at Hogwarts.  He was at home visiting his mother when the attack occurred, but was not present at the time of the assassination._

_      Draco spoke to _Prophet_ reporters briefly late yesterday evening and indicated that he would not be able to return to Hogwarts for the duration of the summer.  Because of his father's exile, Draco is now the acting Lord Malfoy.  A formal inauguration ceremony will be conducted on 31. August, during the break between summer session and fall term._

      Willow's first reaction was understandable horror; Draco's mother had been murdered?  Then her shoulders sagged, and she cursed herself for thinking self-interested thoughts at a time like this, but couldn't push them away.  This sounded like it was going to take weeks.  Buffy was going to want to be close to Draco for this, especially because it sounded like she might be all Draco had at the moment.  However, one weekend had already been bad enough.  The thought of going weeks without her friend was hardly encouraging.  Giles and the others had sent occasional letters, and Harry's letters had been beautiful, but nothing could compare to having her best friend actually sleeping in the same room with her. 

      She sighed as she pushed her way back from the table, giving Hermione a sad shrug across the room as she made her way to the exit.  It looked like her books were going to be all the company she would get in the Tower for the next few weeks, and she was probably not going to make any new friends in Slytherin, not while she continued to insist on remaining friends with Hermione.  And Harry.  She shuddered to think of how she was going to deal with that when the two of them became public.

      She reached her bedroom, but somehow, the thought of being alone even here for the next few weeks made even this little haven seem stifling.  She sighed wearily as she picked up her books.  It was just after breakfast, but she was already tired again.  She took one look at the familiar books strewn around the room, shook her head wearily, and curled up on her bed.  She didn't really expect to get any sleep, but she finally drifted into an uncertain doze.

      Her dreams were troubled.

                        *           *           *

      "How is she?" Lucius asked.

      Voldemort smiled.  "Definitely making progress."

      "Not utterly out of her mind?"

      Voldemort's smile only broadened.  "Should she be?"

      "Most people would be nothing but a vegetable after that."

      "We are not talking about most people," Voldemort reminded his flaxen-haired servitor.  "The last time someone withstood my Imperius, I was younger than your son.  There are Occlumency-specialist Aurors at the Ministry that don't have a quarter of her mental armor."

      "Our sources said she was stronger than most Slayers."

      "Our sources were understating their reports …" Voldemort suddenly paused, as a now-familiar sensation, like being watched from within a distant cloud, prickled into existence at the back of his awareness.  He threw up his strongest Occlumency wards immediately, and continued as though nothing were abnormal, "… about the extent of Dumbledore's preparations."

      Lucius looked puzzled, and Voldemort sent him a venomous look.  There was a tray next to the throne with a small decanter of absinth, a single shot glass, and a small bowl of sugar cubes.  Voldermort poured himself a glass, lit a sugar cube aflame and popped it in, and quaffed the shot.  He fixed Lucius with a significant stare as he did so, keeping an iron grip on his thoughts.

      "Our agent at Hogwarts assures me he has not been detected, my lord," Lucius ventured.

      Voldemort relaxed.  Lucius was a fool, but perhaps not a complete fool.  He had far great a tendency to overestimate his own cleverness and charisma.  People who overestimated themselves were dangerous allies, but Lucius was an unfortunate necessity at the moment.

      "He has not been detected, perhaps," Voldemort agreed, keeping a careful rein on his thoughts, "but perhaps that is also because he fears to take risks to get us the intelligence we need."

      "The episode with the wolf has made him more … cautious."

      Voldemort nodded inwardly.  Lucius was beginning to realize the situation.  His words were getting more natural, but he hoped that the flaxen fool had not given anything away in the past few moments.  Voldemort had always secretly despised Divination, but one did not need the Sight to know that Lucius was going to get himself in trouble someday overestimating his own grasp of reality.

      "Caution is good, but we're on a schedule.  There will be a shakeup at the Slytherin table tomorrow.  Have him take advantage, if he can."

      Lucius looked puzzled again for a brief moment, and Voldemort hissed inwardly, but he covered it quickly.  "Of course, my lord.  I'll see to it immediately.  By your leave," he finished, withdrawing.  

      Voldemort breathed a sigh of relief, and took another shot of absinthe.  The mind-altering drink helped block mental attacks, even though it impeded a person's ability to launch them oneself.  A few minutes later, the sensation of being watched faded out like a cloud evaporating.  He withdrew a silver pocketwatch from within his robe.  It was after breakfast time at Hogwarts.

      He grinned.  _Get some sleep, Willow,_ he thought smugly.  _You might need it tomorrow._

*           *           *           *           *

      **Author's Notes:**  Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!  Fair warning: the next couple of chapters are going to be more Willow-centric, just to keep the story timeline consistent, so there might be a bit of hanging in limbo there.

**      Coming Soon:**  Chapter 30, "The Force of the Game."  Willow finally gets sucked into the Slytherin power-politics game at last … and in dramatic fashion.  Love and politics.  Do.  Not.  Mix.

**      Sneak Preview:**

****

****_"Rosenberg!" a voice behind her called.  Willow sighed and stopped.  There was no way she could pretend not to hear that._

_      […]_

_      "Um … do I know you?" she asked cautiously._

_      Pansy smiled depreciatingly.  "Pansy.  Pansy Parkinson.  Sixth-year prefect.  Just got in from Bristol yesterday night."_


	30. The Force of the Game

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

            *           *           *           *           *

**      CHAPTER 30:**

**      THE FORCE OF THE GAME**

      Monday morning came.  Willow was still awake, and was startled to see the sun rising outside.  _I stayed up all night_.  She yawned and transfigured another cup of water into an espresso.

      Hermione had shown her the Speedreading Serum the previous afternoon, and Willow had begun brewing it with a vengeance.  Without any friends in Slytherin, her books were her only company, especially after curfew.  Looking around her bedroom, Willow was amazed at how much the pile of unread material had shrunk in one day and night.  She had always been shy about bragging about her photographic memory, but she admitted to herself that that combined with the potion and her lack of anything else to do was allowing her to burn through books like a fire in a forest.

      _I just studied for sixteen hours straight,_ she realized.  Even at her best—or worst, depending on one's perspective—back in Sunnydale, she had not done anything of that magnitude.  Being here just seemed to awaken a side of her that was only half-awake in Sunnydale, sending her already heartfelt drive for knowledge into overdrive.  This stuff was a hundred times as engaging as anything in high school, if nothing else.

      She considered going to sleep and forgetting about breakfast, but thought better of it.  She had to stay awake for another two hours because her next batch of Speedreading Serum was going to be done then, and breakfast would be right about at that time, since it was just before five at the moment.  Besides, trying to go to bed on nothing but an espresso was not going to do her any good, and if she went to breakfast, she could mooch stuff for later and sleep through lunch.  In addition, her sleep the previous morning and afternoon had been extremely troubling.  She had been inside Voldemort's mind again, though whether her dreams were the same as Harry's, she had no idea.  They were talking about an agent inside the castle.  Lupin's attacker.  In all the excitement of the past few days, it had almost slipped her mind that the professor's assailant was still at large.  Neither Voldemort nor Lucius had said enough to reveal anything about the agent's identity, however, leaving Willow with more than enough to think about as she studied.

      Two hours later, Willow set down her Herbology book and murmured a simple Chilling Charm over the charcoal under her potion.  Satisfied that nothing was going to catch fire in her absence, she headed off to breakfast.  The potion would be cool and ready by the time she returned.

      She entered the Great Hall and took her usual place at the end of the Slytherin row.  At first, she didn't notice anything usual, since she paid little attention to the Slytherin Game, but after a minute, she noticed that there had been some reshuffling along the table.

      A new girl sat at the head of the table.  The girl was large and pug-nosed, with hair that looked as though its owner believed that good products were a substitute for good health.  In addition, Vincent Byron, the boy who had been advancing steadily along the table that the Baron has used as a demonstration the previous day, was now back at the end of the line, though if he was bitter at his new status, he didn't show it.

      "Who's that?" she asked the slight eleven-year-old curiously.

      He looked a little surprised, an expression that looked a little out of place on his solemn face, though whether it was because he believed she should know the answer or he was surprised she was talking to him, Willow couldn't tell.  He answered simply, "Pansy Parkinson.  The other sixth-year prefect.  She had to come back now that Draco can't come back for the summer."

      Willow nodded as she took this in.  "And … um … did something happen to you?" she asked.

      He smiled wistfully and shrugged.  "Pansy doesn't like me much."

      "Oh.  Well, sorry to hear that."

      "Oh, I don't care.  Would you?"

      Willow laughed.  That was true; she really didn't care what other Slytherins thought of her.  But from what the Baron had pointed out to her yesterday, she thought that Vincent actually did care.

      "Well said."

      "But I'd watch out, though," he said.  "Have you noticed her looking down here?"

      Willow tossed another glance at the head of the table, and realized that Vincent was right.  The girl had been making sidelong glances down the table in their direction.

      "Is she looking at you?" she asked.

      "Actually, I think she's looking at you."

      "Me?!" Willow asked, a hushed but forceful whisper.  "Why me?!"

      "Your ally," Vincent answered simply, and Willow wondered at the odd sound of that word coming from the innocent-looking eleven-year-old's lips.

      "She has something against Buffy?  She's never even met Buffy!" Willow exclaimed.

      Vincent shrugged.  "No, but she's heard stories by now.  And … she's had her eye on Malfoy for years now."

      "What?"

      "Is something going on between Buffy and Draco?"

      Willow's mouth compressed.  _That's right, no one else knows where Buffy went,_ she thought.  "They're friends," she said neutrally.  They had parted on somewhat rocky terms, but if Draco was asking her to stay with him while dealing with his mother's death, they had to have gotten over that somehow.

      "Just rumors," Vincent shrugged.  "But I think Pansy is paranoid enough to believe them, even if they aren't true."

      "So … why me?"  Willow was getting a sinking feeling in her stomach.  She was beginning to understand why so many Slytherins were so paranoid.  They often seemed to be right.  Nonetheless, it irked her that someone would want to want to play politics with Buffy and Draco's relationship—before the two of them themselves even found out what that relationship was.

      "Because you're Buffy's ally.  Or, at the least, she believes you're the only one who knows the truth about the rumors."

      _Wonderful,_ Willow thought bitterly.  It made a perverse kind of sense, in a way.  Buffy had ninety points already and had been invited to sit at the head of the table when she only had forty.  Draco was the head of the table, and Buffy was becoming his friend.  _His "ally,"_ she thought bitterly to herself, cursing Slytherins and their stupid games.  If it became known that they were more than that—if in truth they were—Pansy would hate Buffy even more.  Willow was simply involved because of guilt by association, and because of the fact that she was here.  She groaned inwardly.  She had seen Cordelia act similarly at times, trying to degrade someone's friends to get at them indirectly.  Only she had a feeling that the Slytherins took such things to a higher level than just spreading petty rumors.

      "Well, thanks, Vincent.  And I hope you get your spot back soon," she added, not really knowing what to say.  She pocketed a few muffins and rose from the table.  She had been awake for a long time, and she had somehow managed to make an enemy that she'd never met.  She left the hall as quickly as she could without seeming to hurry.

      Pansy was right behind her, she realized, along with a troupe of her friends.

      _Oh, crap,_ she said, trying to quicken her pace to reach the stairwell through the entrance hall.

      "Rosenberg!" a voice behind her called.  Willow sighed and stopped.  There was no way she could pretend not to hear that.  She sighed and turned around.  Pansy was striding towards her.  She was wearing an extremely poor attempt at a colloquial smile that made her look rather ill.  Four other Slytherins, all from near the head of the table, accompanied her.

      "Um … do I know you?" she asked cautiously.

      Pansy smiled depreciatingly.  "Pansy.  Pansy Parkinson.  Sixth-year prefect.  Just got in from Bristol yesterday night."

      "Oh … OK.  Well, nice to meet you," Willow continued meekly.

      "Anyway, since I'm a prefect," Pansy continued, and Willow noticed she put the faintest hint of an emphasis on the last word as though to impress her status upon the redheaded Wiccan, "I'm supposed to get to know new students.  A few people have said that there's another American exchange student with you."

      "Buffy," Willow confirmed.  There was no chance that Pansy didn't know that name already.  "She's on vacation at the moment."

      "Really?" Pansy pressed.  "Where did she go?"

      "Um … just traveling around.  She's never been to England before."

      "Really?  Any specific places?"

      "I really don't know," Willow replied.  "She just needed to get away for a little while."

      "A bit of a dangerous time to be doing that, don't you think?"

      "I do," Willow agreed, allowing herself a smug smile.  "Which is, you know, why I'm still here."  A few Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs that had happened out to watch the events chuckled at that, but the Slytherins' expressions barely flickered.

      "And you haven't the faintest idea where your friend is?"

      "No," Willow said firmly, turning to leave.

      "Really?" one of the seventh-year prefects, Miles Barclay, crooned dangerously.  _"Diffindo."_  There was a tearing sound, and Willow suddenly felt a draft on her side.  The seam of her robe had been torn open.  She grabbed her wand, fearing that they were going to take it or something, or simply because it was the most obvious thing to do, but that was not what they were after at all.

      _"Accio letter!"_ Pansy cried triumphantly.  With a horrified shock, Willow realized that she had never removed the letter from her robes because she had put it into her pocket the previous day and had never changed.  It must have shown somehow, or one of them had been using an X-Ray Charm, or something.

      "No!" she cried.  "What are you doing?"

      "Being a little skeptical of a Mudblooded Yank," Pansy spat as she opened the letter.  Willow flinched, and her eyes darkened slightly.

      _"Accio letter!"_ Willow cried a moment later, and the letter flew back to her hands, but it was too late.  It had been short and to the point, and more than gave away where Buffy was staying at the moment.

      "So that's the way it is, eh?" Pansy seethed.

      "What did it say, Parkinson?" asked one of the new fifth-year prefects, Martin Gandersworth, slowly but with unmistakable anticipation.

      "In a moment," Pansy growled.  "I need to teach this Yankee Mudblood a thing or two about lying to her superiors."

      Something inside Willow snapped.  "Really?" she grated.  "Because I seriously don't see any of those around here.  _Incendio,"_ she muttered, burning the letter to ash.  No one else would get a chance to read it.

      She suddenly realized that she had made a mistake.  None of the others had realized that the spell was directed at the letter, not at themselves.  Five spells were already headed in her direction.  She reacted instinctively, unthinkingly.

      _"Protego!"_ she cried, radiating the spell to affect everything headed her way.  All five spells bounced off her invisible shield and exploded harmlessly on the walls and ceiling.  The shield crackled with the impact, but it held, and Willow breathed a sigh of relief.  That had been four prefects and Bulstrode, who would have been a prefect had she been in any other year than Draco and Pansy's.

      Some of the softer-bellied Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws quickly took their leave at this point, but Willow noticed that none of the Gryffindors or Slytherins budged, and indeed, many Gryffindors were even crowding forward for a better look.  There had to be at least thirty people watching by this point.

      Five more spells headed her way, and again Willow blocked.  _Dammit, where are the teachers?_ she thought, but the impact of the spells on her shield was enough to convince her not to worry about that at the moment.  She hadn't expected them to keep pressing their attack.  She realized that they probably couldn't back down, now, not if they were so concerned about their status.  Radiating spells was difficult.  Willow guessed that none of the five people facing her could have blocked simultaneous spells from even two of the others, much less all five.

      On the other hand, though Willow didn't want to fight, the fact that they had started it gave her a window of opportunity that she didn't intend to waste.

      She and the five Slytherins traded shots for another thirty seconds or so.  Willow's wand seemed to hiss with glee in her hands, as though it had been itching to do this for a long time.  At the moment, however, Willow was under too much pressure to care.  She smiled, half in amusement, half in exasperation, as several of the Gryffindors actually started cheering like fans at a boxing match.  Ron and Hermione looked like they were trying to get an opening to join in on her side, but the spells were flying back and forth too quickly and the Gryffindor prefects were clearly worried about unintended consequences of throwing more spells into the mix.  Eventually, however, Willow saw an opening and pounced instinctively.

      _"Crescendissimi!"_ she cried.  Several of the onlookers took steps backward at that point, and those that had their hands free quickly clapped their hands to their ears.  A violent sonic boom rocked the chamber, and echoed in the stone halls.  It was all the more terrifying because there seemed to be a terrible voice rumbling within the boom, a voice that echoed with mind-numbing power.  Willow had steeled herself against it, however; she had slipped in a counter-curse a moment earlier amid a series of other spells.  She continued shouting her spells right through the burst.

      Suddenly, with a sharp impact, all five of the Slytherins' wands flew from their hands at once.  The echoes of her Soundburst hadn't even died, but they were the only sound left in the entrance hall.  Even the Gryffindors had been stunned into silence.

      Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of one running foot and one running peg.  A moment later, Moody burst through the doors of the Great Hall.  Seconds later, Snape emerged as well, followed by McGonagall and Flitwick.

      "My goodness!  What in heaven's name happened here?" McGonagall demanded, breathless.

      "It would appear," Moody said, a truly predatory grin spreading across his features as he regained his composure, "that our Miss Rosenberg has the ability to radiate Disarming Charms."

      "Oh, my goodness!  Splendid!  Five points to Slytherin!" Flitwick cheered happily.  Several Ravenclaws and Gryffindors had to hide grins.

      "Who started this?" McGonagall demanded sternly.

      "She did," all five Slytherins said simultaneously.

      "Really?" Moody asked dangerously.  "That isn't what I saw."  He fixed them with extremely pointed stares from his magical eye, and they squirmed uncomfortably.

      "Miss Rosenberg?" McGonagall asked sternly.

      Willow hesitated.  A moment later, she pointed to her torn robe, and shrugged.  "I'm sorry, professor.  I overreacted."

      A chorus of protests suddenly arose from the few members of the other Houses that had remained to this point; there were still a dozen or so, mostly Gryffindors, including Ron and Hermione.  McGonagall listened for a moment, then waved her hands for silence.

      "I see.  Very well then.  Five points from Slytherin from each of you." McGonagall said to the five Slytherins clustered at the base of the steps.  They flinched as a group, and many turned more hateful gazes on Willow.  This time, Willow resolved not to flinch.

      "And detention for the five of you from me," Snape added.  "This was inexcusable.  Not to mention extremely inadvisable," he said, with a surprisingly respectful nod in Willow's direction.

      "Oh, I guess it's my turn, then," Moody growled.  "Well, Severus and Minerva seem to have dealt with you lot," he said, indicating the five Slytherin upperclassmen.  "And Minerva frowns on the kind of punishment I'd like to add," he added.  The Slytherins took a collective and quite undignified step backwards at that; none of them had forgotten the time he had turned Draco into a white ferret and bounced him around the room, even if it had only been a fake Moody at the time.  The fake had been acting exactly as the real one would have.  McGonagall sniffed pointedly.

      Willow gulped.  That meant he was turning to her.  Sure enough, the wooden-legged wizard turned in her direction.  Willow put away her wand and waited meekly.  "I heard that," he said simply.  Pointedly, in a way that let Willow know that he was talking about more than just the sonic boom.

      "I … yes, professor," Willow admitted.

      "Anyway," Moody continued.  "Fourteen points to Slytherin for a combination of good reflexes, good manners, and a good example to a number of my students of outstanding defense against the dark arts under pressure."  Willow grinned.  Moody was giving her just enough so that Slytherin would lose a single point for this incident.  "I would also like to speak to you privately," he said.  "Tonight, after dinner.  I won't call it a detention, but I would greatly appreciate it if you could come."  His words were polite, but his tone was commanding.

      "Of course, professor," Willow said meekly.

      "All right, everyone, show's over!" Moody called.  The audience immediately began dispersing.  Ron and Hermione mouthed a quick "library" to Willow before they left with the others.  Willow nodded in acknowledgement.

      Willow watched after the departing Slytherins for a moment.  They were talking heatedly under their breath as they went, and they were two levels up the stairwell when Pansy suddenly stopped as if realizing something horrible.  She turned to look at Willow, sending her a look of truly venomous hatred.  The others gave her equally angry looks, but Willow caught the distinct look of fear in the expressions of some of the others even at that distance.  Willow smiled back innocently, whispered a quick charm to repair her robes, and walked off to join her friends in the library.

      Professor Moody stood in a corner of the entrance hall, watching students trickle out of the Great Hall and off to their classes, studies, or amusements.  He suddenly became aware of a presence nearby, and turned his magical eye around in his head to see one Albus Dumbledore standing beside him.

      "I was wondering when you were going to come out," Moody grinned.

      "Well you know, I couldn't leave without finishing my strawberry waffles.  Winky made them especially for me, I couldn't well just put them down and run."

      Moody grinned.  "Can't say I blame you, then."

      "How was she?"

      "Only went dark for a moment, and only when worrying about her friend.  Once she took care of that, she was herself again.  In control of both herself and the wand."

      "Young Harry's influence is good on her."

      "For the moment," Moody said with more than a touch of cynicism.  "I think it'll fade if all they have to go on is just letters."

      "Quite pessimistic, but I agree, unfortunately," Dumbledore admitted sadly.  "What did you think of her little trick?"

      Moody shook his head, remembering the vague voice he had heard within the boom of Willow's most dramatic spell of the duel.  "Albus, that girl is truly amazing.  Working an Obliviate into a Soundburst at a frequency too low for normal ears to hear, working one spell inside another … I had been an Auror for four years before I even started learning anything like that.  Took me a year to get it down."

      Dumbledore nodded sagely.  "Not even Tom ever managed anything so complex during his time here, especially so precisely.  I do believe that all our ambitious prefect lost was her memory of the contents of the letter."

      Moody grinned wickedly.  "Shame.  She had her heart set on it."

      "Nonetheless, Willow has made some powerful enemies today."

      Moody's grin did not falter.  "True.  But those powerful enemies might have made an even _more_ powerful enemy today," he said pointedly.

      "Do talk to her about that later," Dumbledore said.

      "I will," Moody promised.  "Among other things."

      "And I suppose I might start thinking of what to say to the directors.  Our good great-family heirlings will have Fudge leaning on them by sunset."

      "How does 'sod off' sound?"

      "Perhaps too honest for this situation."

      "Honesty can be a good thing."

      "This is quite a role reversal for us, isn't it?"

      "Just saying.  Honesty.  Good."

      "True, but the directors are already … anxious … regarding Miss Rosenberg.  It would be unwise to antagonize them further."

      "Maybe we ought to talk to the directors ourselves, then … before the little ferret-wannabes and Fudge get the chance."

      "I think so, too.  I'll conference-Floo them immediately.  They'll need to hear about this, anyway."

      "Mind if I tag along?  I'll be seeing Willow after breakfast, if nothing else."

      "I was just thinking I could use someone good at glaring …"

      Moody glared at him.

      "… all right, well, maybe not _that_ good …" Dumbledore continued 

as the two aged wizards strolled off towards the Headmaster's office.

      "Willow, that was blooming incredible!" Ron was practically bouncing in his seat as Willow sat down.

      She did her best to smile.  "Shh," she said.  "We're in a library."

      "You don't look as happy as I would in your position," Hermione noted.

      Willow shrugged.  "I'm not really all with the yay-for-fighting thing."

      Ron looked stunned.  "Willow, that was awesome!"

      "I think you said that already."

      "Well, maybe this will cheer you up," Hermione said.  "We have something for you."

      "Oh?"

      "I just got a letter from Harry last night saying we should give it to you," Hermione continued, getting up and walking a little way back into the library shelves.  Willow rose and followed.

      Hermione reappeared a moment later, however, carrying a large, flat, rectangular package.  Willow's eyes widened.  It wasn't hard to guess what was inside.  Her heart skipped a beat.

      "Our portrait!" she exclaimed.

      "It would appear so," Hermione agreed.  "Though Ron and I haven't actually gotten a chance to see it yet …" she said subtly.

      Willow smiled.  "All right, I'll open it here and let you see it," she said.  "On one condition."

      "Sure."

      "You have to help me get it back to the Tower without anyone else seeing."

      "Oh, no problem at all." Hermione said.

      Willow smiled and unwrapped the portrait.  In truth, she didn't want to wait until she got back to the Tower to see it, either, so it wasn't asking a huge favor to open it here.

      "Oh my gosh," Hermione said, a smile crossing her face and her eyes beaming.  "That is so cute.  You two look great together.  Are you taking notes?" she asked, changing the tone of her voice to indicate that she was no longer speaking to Willow.

      "Huh?  Who?  Me?" Ron asked, befuddled.  Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly at the ceiling.

      "All right," Willow said.  "Enough ogling."

      "Oh, very well," Hermione said.  She waved her wand quickly and chanted, _"Reducio."_  The portrait immediately shrank to the size of a photograph.

      "Good idea," Willow noted.  She yawned.  She might have thought of that herself, but her brain was frazzled.  In addition to the fact that she had been fighting, she had been awake too long, and spent too much time on Speedreading Serum, which tended to drain one's focus when it wore off.

      Not long afterward, Willow was quickly falling fast asleep, lying on her side and staring across the room at the image of herself and Harry sitting on the bench in the studio, her arm softly in his, and each looking at her from within the frame empathetically.  She knew it wouldn't do much good long, but for the moment, it was comforting to have something to hold onto more than a letter.  Breathing deeply, Willow drifted off to sleep.

            *           *           *           *           *

      **Coming Soon:** Chapter 31, "Unexpected Gifts."  The directors aren't incredibly happy about Willow's actions, but Moody and Hermione & Ron have some things for her to help make up the difference.

      **Sneak Preview:**

****

_      "Oh?  Is this a good or bad thing?"_

_      Moody shrugged.  "It probably would have been a good thing if you could have stayed out of sight, but since it's happened, I guess this is a good thing from where you stand now."_


	31. Unexpected Gifts

** DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling.

**SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

**  
CHAPTER 31:**

** UNEXPECTED GIFTS**

  
  
The sound of the dinner bell woke Willow, but she decided to forego her meal. She still had some food left over from breakfast, and she wanted time to work some more counter-charms and protective enchantments on her bedroom before she had to leave. She had worked a few before she had gone to bed, figuring that people were still a little worried about trying anything against her at the time, but she did not intend to come back to any nasty surprises. 

She worked for close to an hour, until the Willow in the painting on her wall made a motion at her wrist as though pointing to a watch. Willow nodded. It was time to go visit Professor Moody.

She shook her head sadly as she passed out through the Slytherin common room. There were a half-dozen people in the room; most drew out of her way nervously as she passed. Vincent Byron, just returning from dinner, gave her a polite smile and a formal bow, which she didn't understand until he explained that her actions that morning had restored his place at the table by weakening the coalition that had been forcing him downward. She shook her head sadly again as she passed from the chamber.

Moody's office was larger than most professors', and was as messy as any boys' dormitory Willow had ever seen back at UC-Sunnydale. He was sitting at his desk, with his back to her, poring over a book of some kind and casting occasional glances into a hazy mirror in which misty shapes drifted about.

"Willow," he said, without turning around. "Come in, lassie."

Willow stepped in hesitantly and closed the door. "Um … you wanted to talk to me?"

"I remember," Moody said. "Have a seat."

Willow lowered herself onto a simple wooden chair by the door.

"Do you want the bad news first?"

"Might as well," Willow replied glumly.

"Dumbledore and I spoke with the board of directors this morning. Unfortunately, our right honorable Minister is basically a pawn of the families of some of your playmates from this afternoon, so the odds were pretty good that he was going to be leaning on them by sundown if we didn't talk to them first."

"Oh, wonderful," Willow groaned softly, remembering the short man who had appeared in Buffy's living room all those weeks ago and who had been rather … uneasy … about her attending Hogwarts. He had been more inclined to send her to some kind of prison somewhere. Azkaban, she remembered now, and after several weeks at Hogwarts, that name had more meaning to her now than it had in May.

"Politics can be a rough business," Moody concurred. "But we got the board to promise that they would tell Fudge that they'd already been informed of events, things were taken care of, and didn't want to be bothered with it anymore.

"Taken care of?"

Moody sighed. "We had to tell them that you'll be confined to Hogwarts for the remainder of the summer, save for Hogsmeade visits. No more trips to Diagon Alley, and if you had any plans to go visit Buffy or Harry again, they'll have to get put on hold. The directors are worried that something might … provoke … you again, and this time somewhere where Dumbledore and I and the rest of the staff aren't around. The directors feel that it might look … unpleasant … if a student under their care became an Auror-level incident."

Willow groaned and buried her head in her hands. She supposed she would feel the same way if she were a member of the school board, but that was harsh. She had indeed planned to go visit Buffy as soon as possible, probably that Friday, and she and Harry had been planning another trip to Diagon Alley to coincide with another one of Harry's Uncle Vernon's business trips just a week later. She had quickly grown to love Hogwarts, but nonetheless the thought of not being able to leave while her two best friends here were kept away seemed to make the space inside the walls shrink.

Something occurred to her. "They aren't sending me away? But all the people I ended up fighting with are still here! Are they going anywhere?"

"Oh … no," Moody answered casually.

"Isn't that … well …?"

"That kind of stuff happens all the time at Hogwarts. I'm sure you've heard a small fraction of the exploits of the Weasley twins by now. You know the stairwell. You've probably even seen other students dueling from time to time. The rules for what is … normal … are a little different here."

"Quite an exciting day for you today," Moody noted.

"Not my word for it," Willow breathed wearily. "I just spent the last hour working counter-hexes on my room, and I'm probably going to have to go to the library tonight to find more."

Moody smiled, as though she had said something that he had been hoping she'd say. "Actually, that's one of the other things I wanted to talk to you about. Two of them, actually."

"Oh? Is this a good or bad thing?"

Moody shrugged. "It probably would have been a good thing if you could have stayed out of sight, but since it's happened, I guess this is a good thing from where you stand now."

"Oh. OK."

Moody took a pair of books off his desk and handed them to her. "You could go to the library to look for some stuff for your room," he said, "but I think you might find some excellent ideas to begin with in here."

Willow's eyes widened as she took the books. She thought he was bringing her here to discipline her for fighting. He was loaning her books? She took a glance at the titles of the books: _Constant Vigilance, Vol. I & II._

"They're my old books from the Auror Academy," Moody explained. "You look like you're absorbing this stuff like a sponge. If you get through all the stuff for the summer, you might want to start on some of those. They go up to volume twelve, so you can come back if you finish these."

"If I get through … professor, I'm barely at the third-year material."

"In some of your subjects," Moody agreed. "But what about in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Well, I guess I'm a little ahead there … I mean, I came in knowing some stuff, you know." That was a bit modest even for her, she realized, but she had always been a little uncomfortable talking about how fast she could learn things when she really pushed herself.

"Oh, I know," Moody agreed. "That's half the point. The other half is that you write to Harry more than any of us on the faculty have time to. He's always itching for things to do during the summer."

Willow thought about that for a moment, then realized where he was going. Her eyes widened. "I can copy things out of here," she concluded.

"Precisely. He wants to be an Auror more than anything, and Buffy said that you were a good teacher." Moody said. Willow couldn't suppress a surge of pride at that. She had always thought she would be a teacher herself someday before discovering her Wiccan side. "So you can learn things from here, use them yourself, and also send them to him. I'd learn the mail-encryption charms quickly, though. After today, if your mail wasn't already watched, it will be."

"Oh, great."

Moody shrugged. "Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches. Others, you have to punch back, but I think we'd all be happier if you stuck with rolling for the moment."

"No argument," Willow agreed earnestly. "Me and the punching don't go so well together."

Moody laughed. "Caution is the highest virtue of an Auror," he said loftily. Then, less formally, "believe me. I know."

"And what was the second thing? You said I'd reminded you of two things to talk to me about?"

"Ah, yes," he said. "You were talking about looking up room enchantments in the library. I've sent word to Madame Pince. The restricted section of the library is open to you."

Willow's eyes widened. _That_ was not something she had expected to hear here at all. "Wha … why?"

Moody shrugged. "Just in case you need something that isn't in one of my books or the unrestricted section," he said. "Don't let it go to your head. Abuse it, and the privilege can be taken back. But Dumbledore trusts you, and I might, too, if I trusted anyone."

"Well … um, thanks, I guess …"

Moody smiled. "Don't mention it."

"OK," Willow answered, a little overwhelmed. She had more than enough work to do trying to catch up six years in twelve weeks. And yet, Moody did have a point; she was well ahead of the sixth-years already in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, since those built on a lot of her previous learning. Furthermore, even she understood the Slytherin political game well enough to know that she had made a target of herself that morning.

"There's one more thing," Moody said, and for the first time, Willow heard a hint of uneasiness in his voice.

"Yes?"

"Lupin is still out of commission, …"

"Um … I really don't think there's anything I can …"

"Of course not," Moody cut her off. "That wasn't what I was asking. He'll have to make it through that on his own. But he was also my best sparring partner at Hogwarts."

Willow's jaw dropped. "You aren't serious!"

"If you can radiate multiple Shield Charms in rapid succession and weave an Obliviate into a Soundburst, you're already good as some Aurors."

"Did I mention the whole me not being with the punching and dueling thing?"

"Aye, that you did," Moody confirmed. "But if it becomes known that you're training with me, people also might be more inclined to leave you alone. I do have a reputation in certain quarters."

"Um … can I think about it?" Willow asked, not really wanting to accept but also not really wanting to refuse.

Moody chuckled. "You can just turn it down, girl, I'm not going to revoke your library privileges just because you won't spar with me."

"No, no, it isn't that," Willow said. She sighed resignedly. "I'm probably going to have to learn … you know, that kind of thing … eventually. But it's just … well, it's really not me. I'm much more the read-the-book-and-do-it-like-it-says type."

The one-eyed professor grinned patiently. "I know. But practical Defense Against the Dark Arts is something you can't just learn from a book. You've already progressed passed Lupin's level, which means I'd have been teaching you anyway, if you were in class. And," his voice softened a note, "I think some people who care about you might feel better knowing you know how to defend yourself."

_Oh, that is just _not_ fair,_ Willow groaned inwardly. It was true, though. Harry was not only a fighter, but one who wanted to be an Auror someday and had already started teaching some of his fellow students Defense Against the Dark Arts outside of class. Also, people who got involved with him had a strange tendency to get involved in battles.

"I think I can do all right," Willow said defensively.

"Aye, that you do, lassie, that you do," Moody agreed. "And never forget that you have friends in case you get into trouble, too. It's good to have people you can turn to—take it from someone who knows the reverse. Anyway, if you ever want to take me up, you know where to find me."

"Uh … thanks," Willow said.

"All right, go on, run along," Moody said, seeing that she was waiting to see if he had anything else to say. Willow quickly made her exit, taking the two books with her.

_Why do I need more reading material?_ she wondered. _I've already got so much more than I can handle. I don't have the time for anything new. I'm already doing too much. I'm …_

She suddenly stopped and smiled self-depreciatingly, as she realized where her feet were taking her.

_I'm on my way to the restricted section of the library._

Moody had been right. She was only still on the third-year books on the subjects she had no background in: Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic, mostly. In most things, she was already at the fifth-year material. What the wizarding world classified as Charms and the Dark Arts had basically been her forte before coming to Hogwarts, and she had been a quick study even with the limited resources of Giles' collection to work with. With the Hogwarts library at her disposal, and freed of the need to worry about things like Muggle schoolwork and paying bills, she had been able to move forward even more quickly, and that had been before Hermione had shown her the Speedreading Serum.

She entered the library. Madame Pince was seated at her usual place behind the circulation desk.

"Um … excuse me …" Willow said hesitantly. She had no idea what the procedure was for going into the restricted section.

The generally stern-looking librarian smiled understandingly. "First time in the restricted section, eh? Go on ahead, Alastor said you'd be stopping by."

"That's it … no cards or anything?"

"Cards? We don't play cards in the library … though I always did like a good game of whist …"

"Never mind," Willow broke away with a wan smile and made her way back through the main stacks to the entrance to the restricted section. She had seen it dozens of times; it was nothing more than a roped-off entrance. She had always wondered if it were magically warded or if the honor system simply held at Hogwarts.

She unhooked one end of the barrier and stepped through, tentatively. Nothing happened. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Willow quickly realized that she could spend hours here doing nothing but gaping at some of the books Hogwarts had squirreled away. The restricted section was a lot larger than it looked; from the outside, it appeared to be a small corner of the main library, but it sprawled through several other rooms whose entrances were invisible from the barrier between the restricted and unrestricted sections. Eventually, however, she remembered what she had come here for. She browsed through the shelves until she found a section on specialist charms for shielding rooms and residences, and picked up a couple of the most advanced books she could find.

As she carried them to the circulation desk, she saw once again that the Baron had been right: in order to avoid playing politics, she had to play politics. All she wanted was some privacy in her room from the Slytherins and their power games. Yet in order to do that, she had just used a privilege she had been granted largely because she had been drawn into those very games that morning on the stairs of the Entrance Hall. The Game was like quicksand. The more you struggled against it, the more it pulled you in.

Now, almost in spite of herself, she had just taken on five of Slytherin's best at once and won, had amassed forty-two points since coming to school, had gotten access to the restricted section of the library, and had a standing offer to be a sparring partner with an elite ex-Auror. That was without anyone even knowing that she was dating the wizarding world's biggest celebrity, or that she had captured Peter Pettigrew, or about any of the things she had done back in Sunnydale.

She groaned as she reached the Slytherin common room. She had never paid much attention to the fact that her bedroom was on the prefects' floor. Four of the five people she had squared off against that morning were prefects, meaning they lived right down the hall from her, and she had to pass all of their doors to get to her own, as the double she and Buffy shared was at the end of the hall. In addition, the bathrooms were corridor baths, meaning that she was going to have to share a bathroom with the three female prefects. She sighed as she ascended the stairs, Moody's books and her new books from the restricted section all clasped under one arm, to leave room for her wand if she needed it. She was becoming more of a Slytherin than she was comfortable admitting to herself.

It was going to be a long few weeks.  


* * *

** Author's Notes:** Sorry for having gone on a long time with the Willow scenes without switching back to Buffy; the last three chapters were originally two; I split them to keep them in the 8-10 page range. The next chapter will be Buffy-centric. 

Thanks again for all your support!

_ShadowElfBard, Angus Hardie, organized-chaos:_ Thanks for the props on the Moody-Dumbledore scene; I've always liked trying to imagine how the semi-major characters act when Harry isn't around, that was how I'd always pictured them.

**   
Coming Soon: **Chapter 32, "The Possibilities Are Endless." Buffy and Voldemort have a conversation or two, and Buffy has a flashback to her experience with the boggart and dementors.

**   
Sneak Preview:**

_ "What do you want with me?"_


	32. The Possibilities Are Endless

** DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling.

** SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

** CHAPTER 32:**

** THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS**

Peter Pettigrew shuffled nervously in his cell. It had been almost a week since his capture, and still no agent of the Great Lord had so much as made contact with him. He was not at Azkaban and the Ministry was keeping his location in extremely close confidence, but the Great Lord would still have to be aware of his location. His master had spies everywhere.

Suddenly, he heard a commotion from the direction of the guardroom at the end of the cell block, and his mystical senses pricked up at the sudden feel of magic being used. A lot of magic, by the feel of it, since his mystical senses had never been as sharp as James or Sirius', and he was some distance from the guardroom. Whatever happened, it was over quickly; the sense faded after a few intense seconds.

A minute later, a familiar figure strode haughtily into view and stopped at the door of his cell.

"Hello, Peter," she greeted him coldly.

"Bellatrix?" Peter was surprised, and a cold sweat began to dampen his hair and shirt. Voldemort never sent Bella on rescue missions.

"You seem to be worth quite a bit to the Ministry. Two novice Aurors and a Hit Wizard in the other room. Quite a workout."

"Please, don't kill me!"

"Skipping to the pleading for mercy already? And here I was expecting at least a little bit of idle banter and bravado first."

"Please, I never told them anything!"

"Good for you. However, our agent at Hogwarts informs us that the good Professor Snape will have Veritaserum ready in a few days."

Suddenly, another voice thundered in the chamber. _"Stupefy!"_

_"Protego!" _Bellatrix snapped in return, and Peter was instantly reminded why she had been the Dark Lord's favorite for a decade even before she was sent to Azkaban. Caught off guard, she shifted from casual conversation to deadly duelist with the speed of a striking cobra. The red ray of a Stunner ricocheted off her shield onto the ceiling. Peter couldn't see who had fired it, but it had come from _deeper_ within the cell block, which he had thought was empty. He shifted to the front of his cell, looking down the corridor.

_"Impedimenta!"_ Bellatrix counterattacked. A Shield Charm answered her, erupting seemingly in midair, and succeeded in turning Bellatrix' attack aside.

"Maybe there's a real guard here after all," Bellatrix mused. _"Impedimenta!"_ she fired again, but immediately behind that curse, she chanted again, _"Finite!"_ The guard blocked her Impediment, but her counterspell flew true in rapid succession behind it, nullifying whatever invisibility spell or potion the unseen last guard had been using.

A man gradually faded into view. He was a tough-looking wizard of average height in his middle years, though he was clearly in outstanding health despite his wiry, grey hair. He held his wand like a fencer, and if he were at all nervous about the fact that Bellatrix had struck him, he was hiding it incredibly well.

Bellatrix smiled coldly. "Dawlish!" she greeted him. "It's been a while."

The elite Auror returned her smile coldly. "Not nearly long enough," he returned coldly.

"You act like you aren't happy to see me."

"Oh, I am. Snape's Veritaserum will be much more useful on you."

Bellatrix' lips compressed. _"Crucio!" _she grated.

_"Protego!"_ Dawlish growled in response. There was a ferocious crackle in the air, and a shower of sparks erupted from the meeting of their spells, but Dawlish's shield held.

"You've been out of the loop for fifteen years, Bellatrix," Dawlish grated. "I've learned a thing or two."

Bellatrix' eyes glittered. "Mad-Eye isn't with you this time," she hissed._ "Magneto!"_ The two cell doors nearest Dawlish, as well as four of the iron sconces in the walls, twisted and tore free of their moorings and whirled in the direction of the Auror. Peter's cell's door held.

_"Terrandicto!"_ Dawlish roared, and a semicircular wall of earth erupted from the floor, blocking the torrent of metal.

_"Vibro!"_ Bellatrix growled. The twisted pieces of metal embedded in the wall suddenly pulsed and vibrated, and the wall of earth crumbled.

_"Stupefy!" _Dawlish snapped the moment his face came into view. Bellatrix grinned coldly.

_"Protego!"_ she snapped. Dawlish's Stunner rebounded back at his head.

His form blurred as he ducked, and the Stunner passed over his left shoulder and burst on the wall behind him. Peter's eyes widened. No one naturally moved that fast. He had to have managed to work in a Haste spell under his breath while he had been behind the wall. A moment later, he was bearing down on Bellatrix like a pouncing lion, a Shield Charm flashing into existence in front of him to ward off any attack.

Bellatrix was unimpressed. _"Ethereate,"_ she grated. Her form became translucent and immaterial for a moment; Dawlish skidded straight through her, and his back was completely exposed for an instant.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ she shouted. There was a burst, and Dawlish's wand flew from his grasp and clattered across the floor. Silence fell. Dawlish stood still, not even turning to face the dark witch, apparently unable to believe he had lost.

"Fifteen years to practice and that's the best you can do?" Bellatrix mocked, her haughty demeanor returning, even though her hair and clothing showed the signs of battle. "You should have joined us when we gave you the chance."

"Azkaban must have unhinged your mind. Then again, you were never wound very tight to begin with."

Bellatrix' eyes flashed. "And yet I seem to be the one who still has her wand here."

"Your arrogance is going to be the end of you someday."

"Your incompetence is going to be the end of you … tonight."

Dawlish sighed. "I admit defeat. However, tonight, it will only be the end of that traitor, not me." He started into motion again, his arm blurring.

_"Stupefy!"_ Bellatrix snapped, speeding the burst across the room like a laser.

The Auror vanished before Bellatrix' ray reached him, however, and the Stunner exploded harmlessly on the wall. Peter let out a hopeless scream, and his mind went numb. Bellatrix' spells were fast enough, when she wanted them to be, to catch even a Hasted target. Dawlish hadn't been trying to move anywhere, however. All he had needed to do was get a lightning-quick hand into a pocket inside his robe for a waiting Portkey. Without his wand, however, he wouldn't be back in time. Peter began screaming even before Bellatrix turned back to face him.

She shook her head and compressed her lips contemptuously at the sight of him, unmoved. "Now … where were we?"

* * *

Buffy had long since lost track of the time. She had lost track of just about everything. Had it been hours? Days? Weeks, even? She no longer cared. She was just a single, lonely consciousness of misery and despair, floating in a timeless, lightless void. She had relived all the worst memories of her life at least a dozen times apiece—including the last few minutes of her freedom, from the moment Voldemort had struck her with the Imperius. And, worse still, the fresh memory of the creature Lucius had brought down from the mansion in a carpet bag.

_Just as the memories were getting unbearable, the dementors began to file out. She could feel their influence growing less, though her mind was already ragged with the effort of resisting them. They did not go far, however. She could feel them, just beyond the door, ready to return at a moment's notice. She still had no idea how many of them there were. But Voldemort's presence was still strong. She could feel him, feel the evil emanating off of him like stench from a bog. Moments later, she also heard the quicker, firmer strides of Lucius re-entering the room. It was strange how her other senses adjusted so quickly to make up for the loss of her eyes. Voldemort's steps were softer, less pronounced, like he was weightless and drifting across the room like a wraith. Lucius was more … human, though Buffy was loath to give him that label._

_ "No, Lucius," Voldemort said sternly. "Do not release it yet."_

_ "My lord?"_

_ "Release her."_

_ "My lord?!"_

_ "Do as I say, Lucius."_

_ "Yes, my lord."_

_ Buffy suddenly felt her feet on the ground. However, before she could so much as make a move with her legs, Voldemort chanted _"Petrificus Totalus!" _and she was suddenly frozen in place, as helpless as she had been before. Then she felt Lucius' hands upon her, working at her bindings … and she shuddered as they lingered at times somewhat longer than was appropriate. _I'm going to kill him, I'm going to kill him,_ she repeated to herself, but her thoughts were scattered, unreasoning, unfocused. The blindfold came first, then the gag, leaving a sore ache in her mouth as Lucius had to pry it free. Next, her arms were released, and the boning of the jacket was loosened._

_ "That is enough," Voldemort said firmly. Lucius allowed his hands to linger a moment longer on her upper arms before he retook his place behind his master's shoulder. Buffy glared at them both, but she could barely even will her eyes to move, so she had little success._

_ "Very well, Lucius," Voldemort said, his voice laden with diabolical anticipation. "You may release it now."_

_ Lucius leant over and unfastened the clasps on the carpet bag, and then quickly stood back, departing the room moments later. Buffy's mind raced, trying to guess what Voldemort could have in there … she had no idea what a 'boggart' was … before the bag parted. A pair of hands reached out and grabbed onto the sides of the bag, and their owner pulled themselves out a moment later. Buffy's eyes would have widened had they been able to._

_ It was Xander._

_ A moment later, however, she realized that it was not Xander. He turned towards her. Wrinkles and ridges appeared on his face, his eyes turned an inhuman golden hue, and fangs sprouted in his mouth._

_ "Buffster," he said, in a menacing mockery of his usual quirky tone. "Fancy meeting you here."_

_ Voldemort stirred behind her, and pulled out a short sword from within his robes. He tossed it across the floor, and it skidded to a stop only a few feet from Buffy._

_ The vampire Xander approached her, and Buffy struggled to move, but to no avail. Xander put a hand on her cheek; it was a mockery of his former affection, as his touch was cold and lifeless._

_ "You realize you cannot fight it," Voldemort observed. His voice was soft, but it had an incredible intensity. "You love it and hate it at the same time. Seeing your friends become your enemies is a great fear, indeed. But I sense that your fear goes deeper. You see this thing, and your instincts tell you to fight it … but deep down, you enjoy knowing that you cannot fight it. It removes the burden of choice, of responsibility, of consequence, the overwhelming burden that every Slayer has borne since the days of Babylon. For you fear not only that nightmares might come true for your friends … but the choices that you might have to make … if you could …" He put a sinister emphasis on the last words, as the vampire Xander bared its fangs and leaned towards Buffy's throat._

_ Suddenly, she could move. Voldemort had released the spell._

_ She twisted aside reflexively, driving the vampire back with a fierce headbutt. She dove for the sword. The vampire lunged for her, and Buffy twisted aside like a cat, the blade swinging around and crashing down on the back of the vampire's neck. Xander's face turned and gave her a hurt look as it fell from his body, and both crumbled into ash._

_ Buffy turned then, intent on lunging at Voldemort, but he was no longer there. Had he Apparated out of the room?_

_ Then Buffy realized that the ashes were swirling. Another figure took shape, and Buffy backed away. Suddenly, the swirling ashes coalesced and took on human form again. Now Dawn stood before her._

_ "Hey Buffy," she pouted. "Remember me? Oh, that's right, you don't, you never did. Well, what do you think of me now?!" Then her face wrinkled, her eyes turned golden as well, and fangs sprouted from her mouth exactly as they had from Xander's._

_ Buffy's eyes widened in horror. "No … no, this can't be happening!"_

_ Dawn stepped forward and belted her across the mouth. Buffy stumbled backward from the force of the blow. "Really? 'Coz from where I'm standing, it looks like it's happening."_

_ "NO!" Buffy screamed, diving forward and under Vamp-Dawn's next swing. She aimed a savage kick at the base of her sister's spine, sending the vampire that had been her sister flying across the room. Driven by instinct and the desperate drive for her own survival, Buffy sprang after her, and brought the sword across her sister's neck just as she swung around. The ashes that had been her sister fell to the floor._

_ A moment later, the ashes swirled again, and the form of Giles emerged. Buffy didn't even wait this time. She lashed out in uncontrolled fury and desperation, and the vampire Giles crumbled to dust before it could even get a word out._

_ They kept coming. Anya. Oz. Cordelia. Faith. Buffy was hacking and slashing with animalistic abandon, trying to prevent the figures from forming long enough for her to see what they were, but they always managed to do so just before her decapitating blows struck._

_ As the second Slayer's vampiric visage crumbled to dust as well, the dust streamed all the way across the chamber, putting some distance in between Buffy and itself before it began to reform. Buffy started across the room, but froze midway, her mouth dropping open in horror. Angel stood before her._

_ "Buffy?" he said, his voice tight with emotion._

_ "NO!!" Buffy screamed, leaping forward, covering at least twenty feet in the air, her blade sweeping out in a long, graceful, powerful arc. Her aim was true, though the tears were already welling up in her eyes. She closed her eyes, waiting for the crumbling sound of Angel disintegrating into dust._

_ There was no crumbling. There was a thud. With a lurch of horror, Buffy turned to see Angel's body on the ground. There was no dust. There was blood, and Angel's human head rolling away into the corner, and more blood streaming from his human neck. She looked at her sword and her hands and saw them besmirched with more blood … Angel's blood … human blood … she had killed a human … Angel … a human Angel …_

_ She sank to the floor just as Voldemort reappeared in the room. He transfigured her sword into a wisp of smoke, and it drifted away with a soft, muted hiss. Buffy made no move to stop him. Her mind was too numb to even form the command to send to her limbs._

_ "Choices, Miss Summers, choices," Voldemort said softly, even gently. "Inescapable choices. Lucius believed your greatest fear was harm befalling your friends. An astute guess, but short of the mark. You do in fact fear harm befalling your friends. But," he said, and Buffy realized that he had been coming closer, for he took her bloodied hand in his own as he said this, "your deepest fear is not only that harm may come to your friends … but that it may be forced to come from your own hands."_

_ "No … no …" Buffy's refrain was mindless, only semi-conscious. She couldn't get the image of the blood on her hands out of her mind, and the dementors were still near enough to force the image to play itself over and over again, and the image of Faith stabbing the deputy mayor, and the murderous image of the First Slayer, and everything else she had learned of what had happened to every girl in her lineage before her—what they had been forced to do, and to endure._

_ Buffy was too numb to resist as Voldemort bound her again. He employed no spells, no weapons. She simply stood there, her consciousness somehow removed to deep within herself, as he refastened the impenetrable straitjacket around her, replaced the blindfold, and floated her into the air again. He left the gag hanging around her neck as a reminder that it could be restored whenever he wished, but did not force her to wear it again._

The dementors had returned then, and the memory of the entire incident began to replay itself in her mind over, and over, and over again. She was given nothing to eat; at odd intervals, far apart, he would use a nourishing charm of some kind, that kept her alive, even physically healthy, but denied her the physical sensation of eating something. Eventually, even bound as she was, she had managed to fall asleep from sheer weariness.

Suddenly, she felt the torrent of horrible memories streaming through her consciousness begin to subside. The sound of coarse robes rustling reached her again, and she realized, with what part of her mind was left for rational thought, that the dementors were filing out for some reason.

"Good evening," Voldemort's voice suddenly reached her. It was the first human voice she had heard in a long time, and despite how much she hated its owner, she latched onto it like a drowning swimmer onto a life preserver.

She answered by taking a few deep breaths. She wasn't sure she trusted her voice, and she was not going to give him such a tangible indication of how fragile she was at the moment.

"You're looking well," he noted mildly.

She took another few breaths.

She felt his hand on her arm. She was amazed that, despite the fact that his hands were thin and bony, his touch did not revolt her the way Lucius' had. It did not have the same vulgar heat behind it. A moment later, she realized that he was actually only checking her pulse.

"Your discipline is impressive," he noted. "For one carrying the memories you do, for being surrounded so long by so many dementors. You amaze me more and more every day."

"How … how long?" she managed.

She could almost feel him smiling at that, though she had kept her voice steadier than she would have believed possible only moments earlier. "It is now the evening of Monday, the first of July, Miss Summers," he answered casually. Buffy was surprised that he was actually giving her an answer, and she wondered if he was lying, but for some reason, she actually thought that he was telling the truth. If he wasn't, he wasn't lying by much, as that would make it two days since her capture, which felt about right.

"I was supposed to come home on Sunday," she informed him. Her voice was getting steadier again.

"So you were. I took the liberty of writing to young Willow and informing her that you were staying here. I am quite an adept forger, though in the future, of course, you'll be writing your own letters to calm your friend's anxieties about your extended stay."

"Go to hell, _my lord,_" she hissed.

He chuckled softly. "You have strength, but we already know I can hold you long enough to make you write a letter."

Buffy cursed inwardly. He was right. Her mind was constantly tired, and she was emotionally drained. There was no way she could fight him forever … not with his dementors and boggart, and Lucius and Bellatrix assumedly not far away.

"What do you want with me?"

Voldemort laughed softly. "Now, now, Miss Summers. That would be telling. The possibilities are endless. Besides … I haven't finished making those plans yet."

Buffy's mind raced. "In other words, your Plan A for me didn't work."

Voldemort laughed again. "I don't deny it. Your detective's instincts strike true again. 'Plan A,' as you call it, was simple and unimaginative, however. I see this now. You were to have gone home on Sunday as planned, under my Imperius. It would not have been hard to use you to lure your young friend here, along with my wand that she carries; to finish off the wolf, though of course, you were the only potential dreamweaver with the capability of breaking into his dreams and revealing my agent; to spy on that fool Dumbledore's preparations for his futile resistance; and to exert my power through you into my former House, where your influence is waxing as quickly as my own did—though, of course, I was only eleven."

"Sorry for spoiling your plans."

"On the contrary, Miss Summers, you are proving to be magnificent beyond my wildest dreams … both of you are, in fact … and, ultimately, I will still have your help in luring young Willow to my side as well. _Imperio._"

Buffy resisted, but she had no chance against him in her current state. The calm of the Imperius Curse descended upon her with terrifying ease, though she still felt a piece of herself that was still herself, and centered her attention there, struggling to break free.

"Tell me about young Willow," Voldemort commanded softly, lowering his voice. "Start with how you came to Hogwarts. Tell me everything."

_No, no, no!_ the piece of herself deep within herself railed, but it was no use. Words began to flow from her mouth. She told about how Dumbledore, Fudge, and Flamel had come to Sunnydale with their letters; about Dumbledore's secret vault in Gringott's with Voldemort's old possessions, where they had gotten her wand; about their Trust Fund; about Willow speaking Parseltongue at Hogsmeade; and she told about Willow and Harry, which hurt her personally more than anything else she was saying, though she realized some of the other secrets she had revealed were probably actually more damaging and that he had already known something of Willow and Harry's relationship from Snape's letter. By the time she finally shook free of Voldemort's spell, her mind felt like someone had scraped it for hours with sandpaper.

"Well," Voldemort said, a smile in his voice, but actually also a touch of awe, as if even he himself could never have anticipated what she would have been able to reveal to him. "I'm glad we had this little conversation. You both are exceeding my wildest expectations. By the way, in case you are curious, earlier tonight, your friend fought her first duel at Hogwarts, and acquitted herself magnificently."

"You can't hold me under that mind-control mojo forever," Buffy protested weakly, the last of her strength ebbing. She wasn't going to talk to him about Willow any more if she could possibly help it. She also wasn't about to believe that Willow had been gotten into a duel with anyone, though the tone of glee in Voldemort's voice as he had said that had been disquietingly genuine. "You have too many other things to do."

"Quite right, Miss Summers, quite right. Ultimately, however, you will do what I ask of you."

"No." She didn't have the strength to muster a stronger oath of defiance.

"Truly, Miss Summers?" Voldemort asked, a subtle but burning intensity in his voice. As a signal that the conversation was coming to a close, and to emphasize that he intended to have the last word, he refastened the gag between her teeth. "Think of your situation. Think of where you have come in three days. Think of how far you were broken on Friday night alone. Think that we have the rest of the summer together.

"And think that you are right. I do indeed have other things I must do. I will be here often, but I cannot linger here forever. And think that in a few more weeks, my Imperius will no longer be necessary to bind you. Lucius' will be strong enough. But as long as you do as you are commanded willingly, he will not touch you, lest he suffer my wrath. Then think of the other option … yourself under Lucius' Imperius, and myself not here to keep him in check. You are not the only one that I have kept restrained here. Think of that, when you consider how necessary you intend to make it for us to control you."

Tears flowed anew behind Buffy's blindfold as Voldemort strode from the chamber.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Thanks again for all your feedback! It really makes all this worthwhile.

_Buffy13-buffyspike4eva: _Special thanks to you for all your reviews of the earlier chapters! W00t!

Also, in case you were wondering, Moody and Dawlish capturing Bellatrix was in no way part of canon, but I don't remember ever reading who _did_ capture her, so I think it was a legitimate ad lib. The "fifteen years" was tricky because the Lestranges and Barty Crouch were captured _after_ the war ended (which was sixteen years before the end of this because this would coincide with book six' timeframe, after OOTP), but I don't think we ever find out how much later.

**Coming Soon:** "As Time Goes By." Time continues to turn at Hogwarts and the end of summer approaches. Willow keeps getting stronger and stronger, and is knocking on the door of some much more advanced stuff.

**Sneak Preview:**

_ "Thinking of becoming an Animagus, are you?"_

_ Willow shrugged and nodded._


	33. As Time Goes By

** DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling.

** SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

**  
CHAPTER 33:**

** AS TIME GOES BY**

A week passed at Hogwarts, and then another. Then three more. Buffy wrote every once in a while—short, perfunctory notes just to say that she was all right, and that Draco was taking the loss of his mother hard, and the stress of the preparations for his inauguration were getting to him as well. Willow tried to be as understanding as she could, but she seriously wished that Buffy would write something a little deeper every now and then.

Flitwick had finally deciphered the warding against the Recall Charm that Lupin's opponent had used, but it had been too late; it had taken so long that the mystical after-image of the battle had faded beyond even Flitwick's ability to reconstruct it. Flitwick assured everyone that he would be able to break it much more quickly next time, now that he had it figured out, but he still sounded rather crestfallen whenever he talked about it.

The Slytherins were growing increasingly hostile, particularly the older ones. They were cold about it, withdrawn, calculating, but even she could tell. The Baron had been right; whatever the case, she was going to get pulled into their stupid Game eventually. Alliances, lineage, and strategy were all important to their politics, but pure power was still the cardinal virtue of Slytherin, and Willow was beginning to truly come into her own. She had been studying sometimes as much as fourteen hours a day, just to remove herself from the world. It had gotten to the point where she was almost afraid to try out some of the spells and potions she was learning, because doing so might attract attention. At one point, even Hermione had made a comment along the lines of "you might be pushing yourself a little hard."

Fortunately, she had found one new friend. At least, she had made his acquaintance again. He had come home with her from the July Hogsmeade visit, and now slept in her bedroom. He was sitting atop her desk at the moment, basking in the setting sunlight slanting through the window and watching her sprawled amidst her books on the floor.

"Hey, Squiggles," she greeted him, flopping over on her back and looking up at him.

"Good evening, Misss Rosenberg," the garter snake from the hillside by the Shrieking Shack answered. She had never really thought of snakes as friendly creatures, and it was true that he was somewhat aloof, but the snake's manners seemed infinitely better than most of the humans who lived in the Tower with her. "Are you weary?"

"Completely," Willow admitted. "But I'll have a few hours left in me after dinner."

"You will sssee your friend sssoon, yesss?"

Willow nodded. It was hard to believe that Draco's inauguration was a week from Saturday. Finals week for summer session started in a week. She buried her face in her hands. Ron and Hermione had been getting less and less free time, as the Gryffindor prefects were less secretive than the Slytherin ones and it was expected that they would spend as much time as possible preparing their younger charges for exams. They had only gotten to hang out twice in the past week, and even then, not for very long.

"But you haven't reccceived your invitation yet?"

Willow shook her head. "I'm probably going to be the last." Even the invitations had been a status play; they had gone to the closest friends and relatives of the Malfoy family first, and progressed downward. Several seats near the head of the table had changed hands because of the order in which the older Slytherins had received their letters.

"I am sssurprised. Your friend would have insssisssted you reccceive your letter early."

Willow smiled. Even the snake somehow understood the games of Slytherin politics better than she did. He had actually taught her a thing or two about it in the three weeks she had had him; the Baron knew more, but the snake was always there.

"I'm sure I'll get one eventually. Besides, Buffy would know that I wouldn't really want to be near the front of the ceremony anyway."

"Of courssse."

"Hungry?" Willow asked.

"Are you finissshed?" the snake asked. "It'sss quite early."

"For the moment," Willow said resignedly, gathering up a stack of books to return to the library and slamming closed the one she had been reading. "That's a pretty good stopping point," she added. "That History of Magic book there was the last of the required summer reading. Just in time for finals."

"I thought you did not have finalsss."

"Sorry, I don't," Willow admitted. That was the one failing of the snake. It truly didn't understand sarcasm. She found herself thinking that he and Xander would have had serious communication problems. "Also, my Speedreading Serum is wearing off, and it would be pretty dumb to take another one before dinner."

"Oh. Sssplendid then. But I thought you had progressssed well beyond sssixth year."

"In a few things," Willow admitted, too tired to sound proud, though she was. In fact, it was quite more than 'just a few things,' thanks to Moody's instruction and books, Hermione's Speedreading Serum, and her own photographic memory and access to the restricted section of the library. "Stuff that I used to do back home: transfiguration, charms, all that. That book over there is actually stuff from an Auror special forces unit, way beyond school stuff. Moody got it for me. I've been writing stuff out of it to Harry. But most of it is stuff I really can't practice here."

"You ssseek ssspace?"

"Seriously," Willow admitted, laying the back of her hand across her eyes. "This place is too cramped. And I think that Parkinson girl is monitoring the top of the Tower somehow."

"The cassstle is large. I'm sssure you can find sssomewhere with privacccy."

"Buffy and I looked once," Willow said. "We didn't find anything, other than Lupin's office, which is all closed up now, and isn't really big enough, anyway." _Not for the kinds of things I can do now,_ she thought, a little chilled at the thought. She still wasn't wielding the kind of power she had been able to draw upon on the Hellmouth at her peak, but she was getting closer. Much closer.

"Perhapsss."

"Oh, well. See you after dinner. I think they're serving turkey tonight, I'll bring you back some."

"Thanksss."

She gathered up her books and headed off to the library, sighing uncomfortably at her own nervousness as she passed the prefects' doors. The four that had attacked her had studiously avoided her since a few days after the incident on the steps of the Entrance Hall; the following weekend, Pansy had tried to break into her room while Willow was away studying with Hermione. There had been quite a brouhaha in Slytherin Tower in the couple of hours following her attempt as people tried to figure out how a small warthog had gotten into the Tower, before Willow had returned and undid her Porcomorph Hex that she had set in a mystical tripwire. Willow had lost eight points for the incident—Snape had taken ten for causing pandemonium in the House dorms and then given her two for teaching a good object lesson—but Pansy and her cronies had largely left her alone after that. Only the one prefect that had not been involved in the original incident, seventh-year Elaina Delacroix, still showed her face around Willow.

When she reached the library, she noticed Professor Moody talking to the librarian at the circulation desk. He stopped when she entered the room; his back was to her, but Willow had long ago learned that nothing escaped Moody's roving eye.

"Hi," she said softly as she approached. They were in the library, after all.

"Evening, Willow," Madame Pince greeted her as she set her stack of a half-dozen books down on the desk. "Finished already?"

"Well, I've had this one for more than a month now, so it's not like it should be all 'wow' that I finished it," Willow demurred, nodding at the History of Magic textbook on top of the pile.

"True," Pince answered with a knowing smile. She moved that book off the top of the pile. "But do I remember this one from last Friday?" she continued, referring to the next book in the stack.

"Interesting," Moody commented neutrally, noting the book Pince had revealed: _Essences and Polymorphing._ It had been Professor McGonagall's doctoral dissertation.

Willow nodded, glad he had not announced the title for anyone listening to hear, or worse, its implications. Then again, she realized that Moody was probably the last person in the world likely to do something that careless.

"Oh yes, the last one's not from the library," she remembered to inform Madame Pince as the librarian moved to take the rest of the stack behind the desk. The librarian took the other five away to reveal volume ten of _Constant Vigilance,_ which she had borrowed from Moody the previous Thursday.

"Very nice," Moody said, keeping his voice neutral. "Willow, I don't suppose I could see you in my office?"

"Sure."

Willow had been in Moody's office two or three times a week for the last few weeks, even though she had never taken him up yet on his offer of sparring practice. However, as she entered the disheveled room this time, she had not been this nervous since that first night after the fight in the Entrance Hall. Moody knew his arts, and he knew Minerva McGonagall. He couldn't have missed the significance of seeing Willow with the Transfiguration teacher's dissertation. Willow took her customary seat by the door.

"You're really pushing the pace," he noted. He picked up the last two volumes of _Constant Vigilance _and handed them to her; he had not given her two at a time since the first night. "Looks like you're done with the summer stuff, so you'll have some extra hours to fill. Unless you've decided to take up sleeping again."

"It's tempting," Willow admitted.

"Thinking of becoming an Animagus, are you?"

Willow shrugged and nodded. There was no way she could lie to him. She didn't even think she'd be able to even if he hadn't seen the book.

"Did Harry put you up to that?"

"What? No!" she denied indignantly. "I haven't even told him yet. Well, I mean, he knows I want to, but I haven't told him I borrowed that book yet."

"Minerva's book is definitely one of the best," Moody agreed.

Willow looked at him quizzically. That wasn't quite the direction she'd been expecting him to take. The ex-Auror had more surprises in him than a haunted house. "So … you aren't mad?" she asked tentatively.

"Me?" he looked surprised. "Why would I be mad?"

"Well, I thought it was sort of … well, I don't know … against the rules." She remembered something from her History of Magic textbook that a law against unregistered Animagi had been passed at some point in the nineteenth century. Not that she'd broken it yet, since she hadn't actually turned into anything, but she had done a lot of work and was familiar with how it was done now.

"Oh, right, rules!" he said, with a feral laugh. "I always forget about those."

"Are you … well, I mean, really?"

"Well, unfortunately, you're right, what you're doing is definitely against the rules. And, as a member of the faculty, I'm obligated to take appropriate action when situations like these arise. So, let's see … what to do with you … ah, yes! One point from Slytherin."

Willow laughed before she could stop herself, and Moody grinned. The stories of Moody's exploits as an Auror had grown in the telling, but it was fairly well known that he wasn't exactly strict about following rules. From what she had heard, he had been practically as much of a headache to the Ministry as to the Death Eaters in the First Great War.

"I think I've learned my lesson," she said, with deliberately feigned meekness.

"Good. Well, best get those back to your room before dinner," he said, nodding at the books in her hands.

"Right. Um … thanks again," she said politely as she excused herself and returned to the Tower.

"You're back sssoon," Squiggles greeted her.

"I know," Willow answered. "I really couldn't bring Moody's last books in his set to dinner."

"Ssseems reasonable," the snake concurred.

"Thanks," Willow said with a light smile. The smile faded a moment later, however, and she sighed wearily. Squiggles really wasn't bad company, and Harry's letters were magnificent, but snakes and owls couldn't make up for human friends. She picked up her quill and started writing another letter to Harry.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Many thanks once again for all your feedback! And here's another shout out to all the people with me on their AuthorAlert list … my stats say that there's more than a hundred of you now! W00t!! Nice to know I've got that kind of audience. (The last couple of chapters have been big on hundreds … I just noticed that I also went over 100,000 words for this story a few chapters ago. That's long-winded even for me!)

**Up Next:** Chapter 34, "A Broken Breaking." Lucius makes a _very _unwise mistake.

**Sneak Preview:** This is a double update, so none necessary! Continue on and see for yourself! (I'd love it if you'd review both chapters, though … particularly if you thought that this "fast forward" frame to the end of the summer in this chapter was a bit too abrupt. I was worried the story would start to drag a lot if I tried to narrate everything over those weeks, but I'm wondering if I went too far in the other direction.)


	34. A Broken Breaking

** DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

** SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

* * *

** CHAPTER 34:**

** A BROKEN BREAKING**

Buffy sat on the bench at the side of the chamber, looking at her hands.

She was dressed in a loose, two-piece outfit of green, silver, and black that looked vaguely like Arabian dancing attire. It was far less decorative, as it had been designed for fighting, not for display, but it was cut similarly, with loose-fitting harem pants and a close-fitting choli that ended just above her navel.

She had not had to wear the blindfold in a week, though the room was now lightless, so that was generally irrelevant. She had had heat now for close to two weeks, though with the dementors perched just outside the door, she barely felt it. At least they were no longer in the room with her, however.

Suddenly, she straightened and stood, her attention drawn outward for a brief moment. She had been growing able to sense the Dark Lord's presence approaching from increasingly great distances over the past few weeks; her senses were growing attuned to him, and his power was growing as well. The door opened a moment later, and Voldemort smiled coldly at the sight of her genuflecting on the floor, her eyes to the floor at her feet. Deep within her, she despised what her body was doing, but the reactions had been conditioned into her so deeply at this point that she felt the part of her that was still her retreat into a far corner of her mind whenever she felt his presence approaching. It was her own simple but ferocious self-preservation instincts as a Slayer, only turned against her by the Dark Lord's careful machinations. She had been a psychology major. She knew what was happening. She was simply finding herself increasingly powerless to do anything about it.

"Good evening," he greeted her politely.

"Good evening, sir," she answered. "Is it evening?"

"It is indeed," Voldemort replied. "Perhaps if you perform well today, we shall see about getting you a timepiece."

"Thank you."

"Come."

Voldemort turned, and Buffy followed. The room that had been the main vault of Malfoy Manor, where Voldemort had stood to meet her when she first came here, had been emptied of its contents. A goblin digging team had been brought in the day after Buffy's capture to build some new tunnels and vaults in another part of the palace to house the Malfoy fisc; the Dark Lord had not told Buffy the details. The original vault had been constructed into a gladiatorial arena, and Voldemort was bringing his most prized fighter out to play. A small viewing box had been hewn into the wall near the ceiling at one side of the chamber, fifteen feet above the floor; Lucius, Bellatrix, and a couple of other Death Eaters were already seated there. Voldemort led Buffy to the center of the room, stood back from her, and tossed her a long, slender, curved sword. Buffy made no move to pick it up; she knew the rules by now. She was not to pick it up, or even move towards it, until Voldemort had left the chamber.

"I have urgent business in Florence tomorrow," Voldemort informed her. "So I will have to leave for a while, though I assure you it has been a delight to stay here as long as I have."

"Thank you, sir."

"So, for a send-off, I would like to do something special. Fortunately, MacNair recently arrived bearing quite a special catch." He nodded towards one of the other Death Eaters in the box.

Buffy remained silent, not meeting the Dark Lord's eyes.

"You performed admirably against the Blast-Ended Skrewts last Friday," Voldemort continued. "Tonight, we up the stakes." With that, he vanished, appearing in the viewing box beside Bellatrix. Buffy picked up the sword as the door into one of the other smaller vaults opened and a creature emerged.

The creature had the head, wings, and forelegs of an eagle and the body and hind legs of a horse. It gave a ferocious, predatory scream when it saw her.

"It's called a hippogriff," Voldemort announced. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said then to his Death Eaters, "I present to you Bucky versus Buffy."

Buffy did not understand the joke in that, if there was one, but the Death Eaters laughed wickedly. That was all peripheral to her at the moment, however. She was more concerned with the mass of beak and claws bearing down on her.

She twisted aside, attempting to rake it across the side with her blade, but it was a lot faster than something its size should have been. It twisted aside, and lashed out with one of its own razor-sharp feet. Buffy spun her blade and deflected the claw, sparks flying from the blade as though the creature's talons were made of steel, not bone. The force of the blow drove Buffy back a step, and the creature twisted and pounced, its beak driving straight for Buffy's face.

Buffy dropped to the ground and rolled, her body seeming to blur as she moved, and Bucky pounced right over her and skidded across the stone floor. Buffy had to keep her arms in close to her body to make to roll fast enough to avoid the hooves of Bucky's trailing legs, so she had been unable to slash the creature across the belly as it had leapt over her.

The hippogriff came at her again, and Buffy realized that it was a lot more intelligent than either a horse or an eagle. It pulled up short, attempting to draw Buffy in with a feint, and only Buffy's preternatural reflexes allowed her to pull away in time. She recovered her balance in the nick of time and sprang sideways to avoid the creature's follow-up lunge, tumbling across the floor and vaulting to her feet again in one fluid motion. The sound of a single, dry pair of hands applauding reached her ears for a moment, but she shut it out.

The creature began to circle her then, like a lion waiting for a moment to pounce. Buffy sprang forward, and Bucky matched her a moment later; Buffy caught both the hippogriff's claws on her blade at once, stopping him in his tracks, but was held there by the force of the creature's attack. She had to throw one foot out behind her to steady herself against being thrown backward. The creature screamed, and darted forward with its beak.

Bucky's head was less than two inches from her head when Buffy's left fist connected with the bottom of its beak with a crushing off-handed uppercut. Its head jerked backward violently from the force of the blow, and it beat its wings and sprang backward with its hind legs to sail out of reach of her counterattack. Buffy's savage spinning counter claimed only a few feathers from the hippogriff's chest, but drew no blood.

She had him back close to the wall now, however, so she pressed her attack. Her legs blurred as she crossed the distance separating them in three powerful strides, her sword held angling diagonally upward in front of her. She thrust out at the last moment to add extra speed to her sword.

Bucky turned the blade aside with one of his claws, but Buffy had expected that. She spun forward, and thudded into the hippogriff's chest with a savage shoulder bash, using all the force she had built up in her dash. The creature was thrown back against the wall. Buffy spun and thrust forward again, then, this time at an angle from the left to get around the creature's razor-sharp talons, which were suspended in midair at the moment, since Bucky had been driven back onto his hind legs. Buffy doubted he could turn very quickly on just his back legs.

She was right. He blocked with one powerful wing.

Her sword sheared straight through feathers and flesh on the hippogriff's wing, but the force of the spasm that tore through the creature's body as the blade went through was too much for even Buffy's grip; she had sacrificed balance for speed in her thrust. The sword tore free from her grip.

She drove herself backward, but the force from Bucky's movement had jarred her arm, and she was a step slow. Bucky sprang forward. He was not aligned right to hit her with his beak or claws, but he kept his wings spread, ignoring the pain. The mighty wing of the creature crushed into her chest as Bucky sprang past her. She was thrown to the ground. Had Bucky been healthy, she would never have been able to get to her feet again.

She rolled over onto her stomach and threw her palms out onto the ground as though doing a push-up. The hippogriff dove for her, and Buffy pushed off with an explosive breath, throwing herself high into the air with nothing but her hands. Bucky's claw impacted where she had been lying a moment later, driving into the ground and rending flakes of stone from the floor.

Then Buffy landed atop the hippogriff's back, and grabbed onto the feathers on the back of the creature's neck, hanging on for dear life. The creature shook itself violently, attempting to throw her, but she held on, just barely.

A moment later, however, the hippogriff suddenly drove itself backward. Too late, Buffy realized what he was doing; all she had time to do was brace herself for the impact, as the creature drove itself back-first into the side of the vault, crushing Buffy between itself and the stone wall. The air flew out of Buffy lungs and lights danced in front of her eyes, but fortunately, the creature was not as powerful moving backwards as forwards. Somehow, Buffy held on, though the spots in front of her eyes were clearing slowly and she knew that she probably wouldn't last another impact or two of that nature.

Then the hippogriff twisted away from the wall, and Buffy, still dazed, could not maintain her grip. She was able to pull of a last parting shot with her fist at the back of the hippogriff's skull, however, and the force of her being bucked from the creature's back actually added to the velocity of her strike. Bucky staggered, though Buffy was thrown back-first and upside-down into the wall. She only barely managed to get her hands down to prevent her head from sliding into to the ground. As it was, the back of her shirt, as well as the skin of her back, were scraped and torn as she slid earthward, and a fierce gasp of pain escaped her lips.

She was not down or out yet. Not yet. She was losing the exchanges of blows, however. She could sense that she was not going to last much longer. But she was not ready to give up yet. She felt the adrenaline rush that had always come whenever she was in serious danger taking over her, blocking the pain away for a few precious seconds.

With a predatory scream of pure self-abandon, she threw herself from the floor and back at the hippogriff, before it could recover from the blow to its head. Her choli, already torn and hanging clumsily around her shoulders, was more a hindrance than a help, and she tore it free of her body. In the heat of the battle, she no longer cared who was watching. Her legs still unhurt, she drove herself skyward, twisting the torn cloth in her hands and wrenching it with a wild and desperate act of contortion around Bucky's eyes as she swung onto the hippogriff's back again. For a brief moment, Bucky was blind.

That was all the time Buffy needed. With the last of her adrenaline, she threw herself sideways over the hippogriff's shoulder and tore her curved blade free of the creature's wing, where it had remained lodged for the last few seconds. The hippogriff let out a scream, but it was choked off as Buffy crouched forward like a tiger for a split-second, then drove forward and drove her blade into the base of Bucky's throat, driving the blade home with a feral scream. The blade sank into the creature's neck to the hilt, and blood spurted from the wound, staining Buffy's exposed flesh.

She rolled aside as the hippogriff crashed to the ground, and the adrenaline rush faded. She had to crawl over to the hippogriff's corpse to retrieve the tattered remains of her fighting top. Her sword faded and vanished. The animalistic abandon that had overtaken her faded at the same time, and she was suddenly acutely aware of the eyes on her, though she had not yet turned to look at them and quickly decided that she wasn't going to.

She picked up her shirt and held it around her body as best she could, then forced herself to her feet. She stood looking away from Voldemort and the viewing box, feeling Lucius' eyes burning into the back of her body. Her eyes narrowed.

"You do not stand with your back to the Dark Lord, girl!" she heard the accursed flaxen-haired man shout. She stiffened.

"Lucius!" Voldemort's sharp bark cut him off, and the tiniest sliver of a smile, completely mirthless, touched Buffy's lips. Lucius' disappointment was almost palpable.

Then, Voldemort's voice rang out to her. "Lucius is correct, Buffy." Buffy stiffened again, much worse this time, but Voldemort continued quickly, "But do wait a moment. _Reparo._"

Buffy suddenly realized that her top was whole in her hands again, and she quickly slipped it on.

"Now you may turn to face me," Voldemort continued dispassionately. His voice was pleased, excited even, but she knew him well enough by now to know that it was her performance, not her appearance, that had pleased him. She turned. The three male Death Eaters all had barely concealed leering expressions on their faces; Bellatrix looked almost envious, which made Buffy smile maliciously to herself. Voldemort's half-serpentine face was content, but there was no desire in it, which actually made it the easiest of the group to look at, despite its inhumanity.

"Well done," Voldemort congratulated her. "This memory will keep me in good company on my trip. However, business calls. I must be off. Lucius, please see her back to her cell."

"At once, my lord," Lucius answered obsequiously.

Buffy's mouth contorted in a sneer. She had no need of anyone to 'see her back to her cell.' She had long ago realized that she wasn't getting out of here on her own. Voldemort was no longer there; he had Apparated as soon as he had finished speaking. Buffy was already limping back to her cell before the echoes of the Dark Lord's order had died in the cavern.

She shrugged her way into the cell and lay down along the bench by the back wall, intent on getting as close to asleep as possible before the dementors returned to their positions outside her cell; it was almost impossible to sleep with them there. If she managed to get to sleep before they returned, she tended to have nightmares, but at least she could get some rest.

A moment later, however, that hope sailed out the window … or would have had there been any windows … as she heard the soft creak of the door opening again and felt a presence enter her room.

"Yes?" she asked, still lying facing the wall and declining to turn around.

"I was commanded to see you back to your accommodations," Lucius responded casually.

"Well, I'm here, and you've seen me," she responded.

"Temper, temper."

"I don't recall him giving you any orders after that."

"Indeed, young princess, neither do I." His voice was like black silk.

Buffy chuckled mirthlessly. "I'm no princess."

"No? Well, you might have been. I do believe my son's affection for you was quite genuine, and quite more than merely political."

A faint spark of heat rose within long-dormant ashes in Buffy's heart for a moment as he said that, but it cooled a moment later as though it had never been. Nevertheless, she held her tongue. Lucius was not Voldemort—he had neither the Dark Lord's sheer power nor his psychological skill. She had no intention of saying anything to him that she did not have to. In addition, she could feel the dementors reestablishing their positions just outside the door, and the cold cocoon that she had developed to protect herself from them was enveloping her again.

"Turn around," Lucius whispered, low and insistent.

Buffy neither moved nor spoke.

"Turn around," Lucius said again, a little louder. Buffy ignored him again, withdrawing further into her mental cocoon.

She suddenly felt his power building behind her. Before she could even think to move, or emerge from her cocoon enough to make the command, however, she heard his voice again behind her. _"Imperio."_

She gasped, but her mind had been worn down over the weeks, just as Voldemort had said it would be. It was the first time Lucius had ever used the Imperius Curse on her, however. His Imperius was different than Voldemort's; Voldemort's created the sensation of fangs pressing on the surface of the victim's mind in the attack, but created a sense of complete calm afterwards, like being half-asleep. Lucius' was less refined, but softer; it felt like Buffy's nerves had been wrapped in soft, dark silk that pulled her limbs as it wished.

"Stand up," he commanded her. Wordlessly, Buffy turned and rose to her feet.

"Come closer," he continued. She began to move towards him slowly. The dark ember that had burned briefly a moment earlier sparked again within her; once again, it lasted only a few brief moments, but it lasted noticeably longer and burned tangibly hotter than it had moments earlier. She stopped a few paces from him.

"The Dark Lord is gone," Lucius informed her, sounding for all the world like he was in complete control, despite the obsequiousness with which he had spoken to his master only minutes earlier. "In his absence, I am the master of this palace."

Buffy stood still. She had not been commanded to move or do anything. However, her mind was working. For some reason, it seemed to be working better than it had in weeks.

"In his absence, you are to obey me as you obeyed him," Lucius continued. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Buffy answered obediently, but the spark within her flared again for a brief moment as she said it. It was a sensation she had half forgotten; when Voldemort had been the one in her cell with her, she had not felt that spark in weeks even when the Dark Lord was not using Imperius.

"Good. Now, you know what I have desired of you for many weeks."

"Yes, sir," Buffy answered again. This time, the spark flared up again and did not die, however. A part of Buffy's mind that had been hibernating, even comatose, for weeks suddenly awoke again. She was still under the control of Lucius' Imperius, but suddenly, she felt that she could fight it again.

She began to circle Lucius, slowly, as though dancing, drawing a finger slowly, sensuously down his body as she circled him, starting at the side of his face and working her way down to just above his waist. Her body was still not her own to control, but for the first time in weeks, she felt another consciousness within herself that actually felt like fighting for control again.

Her hands slipped beneath Lucius' robe and began to slide the Death Eater's rope belt free of his waist. There was an unmistakable bulge beneath his trousers. Her hands continued their work as though mechanical, but the touch of … that … set off a fire of disgust and revulsion through the newly-reawakened part of Buffy's consciousness. Lucius, completely oblivious, closed his eyes and gave a soft, guttural nothing sound in his throat.

Buffy genuflected in front of him.

"Good, Slayer, good," Lucius moaned, his voice quivering with expectation.

The spark in the back of Buffy's mind swept outward, blossomed, became a burning flame. Her inner thoughts crystallized, and while she was still not in control of her limbs, she suddenly felt more in control of her mind than she had in weeks. It was as though her consciousness had been broken, but was somehow reassembling itself under the pressure of the Imperius Curse, and of Lucius' undisguised attentions. Lucius opened his eyes, perhaps sensing something faltering in his Imperius, realizing he had allowed himself to get too engrossed in the moment and had allowed his concentration to falter.

"Bad, Slayer, bad," she grated, her voice laden with undying venom. It was the last warning Lucius got that his Imperius had been broken.

Buffy sprang forward and skyward with all of the strength she could muster. Had she not just been worn down from fighting a hippogriff, she might have killed him. As it was, her knee connected with his crotch at the same time her elbow connected with the bottom of his chin. Had she been an inch taller or her arms an inch longer, she might have made it to his windpipe.

With an earsplitting howl, Lucius flew backward and off of her as though he had been hit by a truck. His wand fell from his fingers and clattered across the room.

Buffy was nowhere near finished with him, however. Dazed with pain, he was in no position to get a spell off on her as she lunged forward, seized him by his robes, swung him around, and drove him back-first against the wall. Another cry of pain burst from his lips.

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_ a cold, dry, familiar voice behind her hissed. Buffy suddenly felt her arms, and the rest of her body, frozen in place. Lucius, while not frozen, was still pinned against the wall by her unmoving grip, and was too short of breath to get a spell off.

_How is he still here?! He said he was leaving!_ Buffy's mind raced. She was in trouble. Lucius' cry of agony had disguised the popping sound of Voldemort's return.

"You astound me, do you know that? Weeks of effort have just been wasted. I thought I had taught you better. I'm very disappointed in you, Lucius." Lucius jerked at that, and Buffy would have had she been able to. He hadn't been speaking to her?

"I ought to leave you there like that, do you know? Pinned in the air against a stone wall by a Slayer … not so unlike crucifixion, actually. I imagine you'd die very slowly and painfully in a few hours."

Lucius' face drained of what little color it had left. "N … no, my lord … please …" he begged, his breath ragged.

"Silence!" Voldemort hissed. "Fortunately for you … _extremely _fortunately for you … I still have need of you. _Mobiliarbus."_ Buffy suddenly found herself pulled away from Lucius, as though she were a mannequin being dragged backward. She stayed upright, and her frozen position did not change, but Lucius suddenly fell forward and lay rasping for air on the stone of the cell.

"Th … thank you … my lord …" he managed.

"I SAID SILENCE!!" Voldemort roared, in a far more powerful and chilling voice than Buffy had ever heard him use before. She had never really noticed, but he had never shouted at her before. Not once. Voldemort brushed past Buffy then, and lifted Lucius to his feet. "Tie your belt," he hissed dangerously. Flushed with embarrassment, Lucius struggled with his belt.

"You fool," Voldemort continued. "You pitiful, witless fool. Did you think I set no wards on this chamber, or on the girl? I felt the moment her spirit blossomed again. You've just set the treatment back at least three weeks. Perhaps more."

He loosed his grip on Lucius then, and the once-proud Death Eater, his suave demeanor utterly shattered, collapsed against one of the benches along the wall, still in agony, but getting no sympathy from either of the other occupants of the room.

Voldemort was recovering control of his voice, recovering the low, almost dignified intensity that Buffy had found at once so terrifying and so hypnotic for the last few weeks. "Get your wand, and get out of my sight. If you have a scrap of wisdom in that overconfident brain of yours, you will remain extremely scarce for some time. I do believe you have just made two of the most powerful beings in the world very upset."

Lucius staggered to his wand, collapsing on the floor twice en route. Eventually, he managed to get to his wand.

"Don't," Voldemort commanded as Lucius began to draw power to heal himself. He waved his wand and mouthed a few complex incantations that Buffy couldn't quite follow, but she caught the word _Crucio_ in the midst of it.

"If _any_ healing spells touch you for the next forty-eight hours," Voldemort continued dangerously, "the curse will be unleashed. Localized. Just in that region between your legs that you seem to have some difficulty controlling. Pain always seems to be an effective instructor of discipline."

Buffy could not see Lucius anymore, as he had had to pass by her to get to his wand, but from the sound that burst from his throat at that, Buffy thought he might be about to cry. She would have smiled had she been able, and an unmistakable twinkle entered her eyes despite her predicament.

Lucius limped from the room. Voldemort did not say a word, or move back into Buffy's line of sight, or release the paralysis spell, for another few seconds. Indeed, from the lack of sound or movement of air, Buffy did not think he was moving any more than she was. Her spirit was roaring within her, however, and she felt herself fighting to throw off the Full Body-Bind. With a hiss, she felt one of her fingers move, then another.

Suddenly, she found she could move again. Voldemort had released the spell. She held her ground, however, remembering the last time she had aimed a flying kick at the Dark Lord. She also did not turn around to face him. She straightened her posture, abandoning the pose that she had been frozen in while holding Lucius to the wall, but kept looking at the wall. If he wanted that show of respect, he could try to compel her himself—and she was keeping her muscles tense for when he tried.

"Well, that was disappointing," he hissed nonchalantly.

"It was," Buffy said, disciplining her voice to nearly a match of Voldemort's own self-control. "Though it would have been a lot less disappointing if you hadn't shown up for another minute."

Voldemort actually chuckled. "I must say, it was quite tempting."

"You should give in to temptation more often."

"Regrettably, I require Lucius alive at the moment. Had it been otherwise, I would gladly have gone about my business in Italy. However, in another few weeks, I will have much less need of Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps then we will both be able to chastise him properly."

"Ooh, I'll mark my calendar."

"Back to your flippant American ways, for the most part," Voldemort noted. "Pity. You were learning so well. _Imper ..."_

Buffy had been expecting him to pull that curse out again, however, and had been waiting for the feel of him drawing his power. As soon as he began the word, she twisted and lunged, low and hard, her legs nearly blurring as she drove herself across the room in the direction of Voldemort's voice. Her aim was true, she realized with a flash of desperate hope as her fist closed on Voldemort's face.

Suddenly, her fist was swallowed in a field of blackness. Voldemort's cape had swirled out as if possessed of a mind of its own, throwing itself in the path of her attack. It was punching a wall of thick, soft, cold velvet—and it took all the momentum out of her attack.

_"Impedimenta!"_ Voldemort's voice hissed from behind the cape. A burst of impact hammered Buffy in the solar plexus like an immense fist; Voldemort had aimed his curse straight through his own cape, throwing it from his body but throwing Buffy back across the room at the same time. Spots danced in front of her eyes as she rolled to her feet, but she knew that it was too late.

_"Imperio,"_ Voldemort's voice came again.

Her mind was fully awake again now, and she fought back against Voldemort's mental attack with every bit of the ferocity she had found within herself on the night she was captured. She was feeling more herself than she had in weeks, and every reawakened fiber of her being was screaming against the possibility of repeating the last few weeks. She was tired and hurt from her duel with the hippogriff, however, and had already been mentally drained by the effort of breaking out of Lucius' Imperius, weaker though it was. Gradually, painstakingly, the barbs of Voldemort's curse forced their way past the surface of her mind. She gasped, and actually cried out as they penetrated, and the calm of Voldemort's Imperius descended over her again.

Minutes later, she was back in the hated bindings that he had not made her wear for several weeks now. However, her mind had regained much of the sense of itself … and something more. On their last night together, she, Willow, and Hermione had been studying dementors, and Hermione had told them the story of how Sirius Black had stayed sane at Azkaban, surrounded by the things. It had been because he was innocent, and that he had been framed—it had not been a happy thought, but unlike most of the other unhappy thoughts everyone was left with, it had kept him sane.

In the corner of her mind that was still herself, working wildly as Voldemort bound her again, Buffy realized why Sirius' bad memories had not destroyed him while others' had. Duty. Sirius knew that somewhere out there had been a Death Eater on the loose with his sights set on his godson's life. That had given him a sense of purpose, of duty. Those were never happy things, but unlike other miseries, they gave reason and direction to life. They took miseries and made them not better, but worthwhile. They kept a person from going mad.

As a short, sharp pop announced Voldemort's departure from the room, a slow, combative smile crossed Buffy's face. The dementors were returning into the room with her, but their presence did not affect her the way they previously had. With most of her mind free once again, but with the memories of the things that had been done to her over the last few weeks still fresh in her mind, she was able to call to her mind once again why she did the things she did, in spite of her fears about the people she loved, in spite of all the horrible things that she had done and that others had done to her. The simple clarity of her duty, lost for so long since leaving the Hellmouth, returned to her, and she remembered why she fought, who she fought against, and who she was.

_In every generation, there is a chosen one. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer._

That was not a happy thought. But it was something to hold onto.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks again for all your feedback (and quadruple thanks to Jedi Buttercup for reviewing the last four older chapters, too)! I feel like I should throw you guys a picnic. You guys rock. (Maybe we could just meet at the Three Broomsticks after work … any takers?)

The pace will really start picking up at ch. 36, and we'll start getting toward parts that should be a little more … active. (Though giving Lucius a bit of comeuppance this chapter was kinda fun, too.)

**Coming Soon: **Chapter 35, "Teaching and Learning." An unexpected piece of news and an unexpected career opportunity present themselves to Willow.

**Sneak Preview:**

_ "Were you looking for me?" Willow asked._

_ "I was indeed," Dumbledore confirmed. "I was wondering if I could borrow your help for the rest of the day, and maybe tomorrow."_

_ "Um … well, sure," she agreed, hoping that she wasn't volunteering for anything exceptionally dangerous. "What do you need help with?"_


	35. Teaching and Learning

** DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

** SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

** CHAPTER 35:**

** TEACHING AND LEARNING**

Willow was slow getting out of bed on Tuesday morning, and actually fell back asleep before being reawakened by the breakfast bell. She cast a glance at her reflection in the mirror and gave a muffled groan; her hair definitely had the look of a girl who had been tossing and turning in the night.

"Did you not sleep well?" Squiggles asked.

"Not really," Willow admitted quietly. "I was thinking about Tara again." The other Willow in the portrait across the room cast her eyes downward, and the image of Harry patted her shoulder comfortingly. Willow smiled wanly. She had often wished that she could step into the portrait, just to be with the illusion of her boyfriend.

"Sssorry to hear that," the snake said, though the dry, impassionate language of the snakes was hardly a good medium for sympathy.

"Urgh, it's OK," Willow groaned sleepily. "Anyway, I need to get to breakfast."

"Very well then."

She made her way down to the Great Hall and took her customary place at the end of the Slytherin line. Since the episode with the Porcomorph Hex, the Slytherin elite had reluctantly left her alone. Elaina Delacroix had assumed the head of the table by virtue of being the only prefect present who had not been in on the battle with Willow, but even she had never approached Willow, quickly getting the hint that the enigmatic American exchange student preferred to be left alone.

She was in the middle of a rare second helping of whortleberry waffles when the mail arrived. She kept her fingers crossed; it hadn't really been that long since Harry had written, but it had been longer than average, and counting the letter that Willow had sent out the previous day, she had written him twice without hearing from him, though he wouldn't be getting her second letter until this morning.

Her heart gave a small leap as a young, nondescript tawny brown owl fluttered down and settled in front of her. Harry had been refraining from using Hedwig because of the bird's fame, though he had been clearly getting a little disappointed that she wasn't feeling more confident about their relationship being public. From the sound of things, Hedwig was getting a little upset as well; Harry had described numerous times when the owl had gotten rather prim with him when he had brought in a stranger to carry his mail. She gave an apologetic look to the snowy-white owl across the hall that was busy delivering her owner's letters to Ron and Hermione, and to several other Gryffindors today as well. Harry had apparently been busy writing over the last few days. _Soon,_ she promised inwardly, for what felt like the thousandth time. _Soon._ As she did so, she noticed that the Gryffindors, which, as they always did, tore their letters open immediately with childlike enthusiasm, all seemed rather excited by whatever it was he had to say.

She quickly finished her waffles, pocketed a few sausage links for Squiggles, and took her leave, wandering off to the library.

Ron and Hermione were already there. They had to have left the Great Hall only moments after Willow briefly returned her attention to her food. For some reason, they gave a surprised expression when they saw the look on her face.

"Aren't you happy?" Ron commented curiously.

"Why? Huh?" Willow asked, puzzled.

"You … oh Ron, she hasn't read it yet. Willow, read your letter!"

"I was kinda planning on it," Willow answered defensively, somewhat taken aback by their enthusiasm. Nevertheless, she quickly tore her letter open, her curiosity more than piqued by their sudden excitement.

_Dear Willow,_

_ I received an unexpected visit yesterday. Dumbledore stopped by to see how I was doing. He had some good news for me … and good news for you, too._

_ By this Thursday, I'll have spent enough time at home to renew the protection I get from living here. Good thing that it doesn't actually go by the school calendar … lunar cycles or some such, I have no idea. So I'll be coming back on the first train Friday, and this time, I won't have to go home again. I'll be here for the Hogsmeade visit on Saturday, for finals week, and on through fall term. I can only hope that you're feeling as good about that as I am._

_ I can't wait to see you again. Three more days. Until then,_

_ Love,_

_ Harry_

Willow read it, and read it again, and read it again, the smile on her face growing wider each time. Eventually, she simply crumpled up the letter and held it to her chest like he was already there again. Four days. He would be there in four days.

"Right then, _now_ you look a little happier," Ron observed.

"I'm still processing," Willow replied breathlessly. "I'm going to get all glowy here any second."

"Glowy? Is it too dark in here?"

"It's a Muggle figure of speech, Mr. Weasley," a kindly voice from the booth next to them corrected him. "A rather American one, at that, I might add," it continued a moment later.

The speaker emerged from the booth a moment later, but Willow had recognized the voice. She smiled as Albus Dumbledore straightened from the booth next to them. She had no idea how none of them had managed to notice him, but she had a feeling that Dumbledore had any number of ways to avoid being seen if he wished.

"Professor!" Willow greeted him, genuinely excited to see him. She hadn't seen him in a while save at meals, and he was absent increasingly often even then, and she had missed the kindly old man's presence.

"Good morning, Willow," he returned her greeting. Ron and Hermione added their own greetings a moment later, which Dumbledore returned politely.

"Were you looking for me?" Willow asked.

"I was indeed," Dumbledore confirmed. "I was wondering if I could borrow your help for the rest of the day, and maybe tomorrow."

"Um … well, sure," she agreed, hoping that she wasn't volunteering for anything exceptionally dangerous. "What do you need help with?"

"As you might remember, I've been teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts once a month."

"Sure." Snape and Moody had divided up Lupin's other classes, but Dumbledore had kept his word about teaching one class each full moon; Willow could imagine the likely reaction of most of the students had he called them off.

"I was hoping I could get you to teach with me this afternoon. Moody tells me you've become quite accomplished in a few months, and Rupert tells me you've wanted to be a teacher for some time."

Willow's eyes widened. Surprises never stopped in this place. She had always guessed that Moody had been keeping Dumbledore informed of her progress, though they had never really talked about it, and she had guessed that Dumbledore had been keeping track of her in other ways, anyway. But the fact that Dumbledore had been keeping in contact with Giles was unexpected.

She asked a question along a different line to cover her other thoughts. "Today? The full moon isn't until next week, is it?"

"It is not indeed," the wizened wizard confirmed. "However, as summer finals are next week, I have agreed to teach my classes this week instead."

"Oh, well, sure, I'll do what I can."

"Splendid, splendid. Classes begin at nine o'clock and go to four."

Willow arrived at the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom ten minutes before nine not really knowing what to expect. She had indeed always wanted to be a teacher, but had always been more likely to picture herself teaching computer science or biology than witchcraft. Of course, a lot had changed over the past few years, and even more over the last few months, but it was still a rather new experience that filled Willow with no small amount of anxiety, even if she would just be Dumbledore's assistant for the day. A few students were already there, and Willow waved at them shyly; these were the third-years, and she didn't know a single name among them, not even among the Slytherins. She made her way quietly to the front of the class and stood near Dumbledore, who was busy writing some notes on the chalkboard.

"'Morning again," she said.

"It is still indeed a good morning," Dumbledore answered with a smile.

A few moments later, the room was full, the nine o'clock bell sounded, and Dumbledore clapped his hands for silence.

"Good morning, everyone!" he called happily.

"Good morning, professor," the group of about forty students replied in unison.

"Splendid to see you all again!" he continued. "I'd also like everyone to please offer a good morning to Miss Rosenberg, who will also be teaching with me today."

"Good morning, Miss Rosenberg," the class said, and Willow smiled. Thinking back to her middle-school years in California, she hadn't remembered most groups of thirteen-year-olds being so polite.

"Good morning, everyone," she said, in the most teacherly tone she could muster.

"Splendid, splendid," Dumbledore said again. He seemed rather fond of that word. "Now, Professor Moody tells me that you were just finishing learning about will-o'-the-wisps and were about to start on red caps, yes?" General murmurs of assent answered him.

The lesson passed quickly, and Willow actually found it relaxing doing some of the lower-level work that she had burned through weeks ago. Will-o'-the-wisps were sentient phantom lights that liked to lure unwary travelers into bogs and quicksand, and which fed off their victims' mental energy as they sank. Dumbledore gave Willow a Weasleys' Portable Swamp to set up in the hallway outside, and Willow enjoyed the class' reaction when Dumbledore led them out into a hallway that had been converted into a festering bog for a good fifty yards in both directions. Dumbledore released a few of the phantom lights, and Willow alternated between showing the different ways to defeat a will-o'-the-wisp and standing back and letting the students try them. There were several ways of going about it; the Water-Walking and Solidification Charms were effective because it allowed the students to walk right over the patches of quicksand and entrapping mud, which would eventually convince the will-o'-the-wisp to give up rather than expend its energy fruitlessly. Darkness spells of various varieties were useful to simply block their light and ignore them. Willow knew a spell to drain psychic energy, which could actually kill a will-o'-the-wisp, but it was from a sixth-year textbook and Dumbledore never asked her to show it to the class until the end, just as a demonstration of things to come.

Dumbledore stood by the door of the classroom and kept watch, making sure no one actually got hurt; the Weasley twins' swamps were getting good, and the water was surprisingly deep in places. He also occasionally announced a point or two for one House or another whose members were performing well.

A lesson on red caps followed, followed by a quick review of hinkypunks just before the class ended and it was time for lunch. Dumbledore quickly dissipated the swamp to let his hungry charges charge off towards the Great Hall. Willow stayed behind, sensing that he wanted to use the opportunity to talk to her.

"So … how did I do?" she asked.

Dumbledore laughed lightly. "Very well, Willow, very well indeed. In fact, I was hoping I could talk to you about that for a moment."

"Um … sure."

"As you well know, we're going to have a lot more students here after next week."

"Sure."

"And there is also a war building. Voldemort's power is growing and his forces are massing."

"I kinda heard."

"Yes, of course. However, I make it a point to spend as much time as possible at Hogwarts. The future of the wizarding world is forged within these walls, and I am quite attached to this place … to its students, even to its food. Have you tried the whortleberry waffles yet?"

"I have," Willow agreed, with a smile. "I'm attached, too."

"Indeed," Dumbledore continued, the light twinkle sparkling in his eye that always made him so instantly endearing. "Well, as you are well aware by now, Harry will be returning here Friday, and regular fall term will be starting a week from Monday. It is therefore important that I be here as well."

"OK."

"However, there is a great deal of grave import happening every day in London. The Order of the Phoenix is needed there every day."

"The what?"

Dumbledore smiled, well aware that she hadn't known of them beforehand. "I beg your pardon. A group of wizards and witches that I founded some time ago to lead the resistance against Voldemort. We came out of retirement, so to speak, last year."

"Oh. Sorry, I hadn't heard of them."

"Few people have, Miss Rosenberg, few people have," he said, an amused twinkle in his eye. "It's a secret organization, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone."

"Oh, right." Willow gave him a questioning look. "Well … thank you," she said.

"Well, I am the head of the Order, and I've been spending quite a deal of time in London with the Ministry recently, planning the defense. However, with the Ministry and I finally beginning to get on the same page, it is less important that I be there and more important that I be here. However, it is important that the Order have a high-level representative to stay in London to coordinate our efforts."

"So who's your second-in-command?" Willow asked.

Dumbledore smiled in a way that let Willow know she had stumbled on the crux of the matter. "Alastor Moody."

Willow's mind raced. That certainly made sense, if half the rumors she had heard about Moody's exploits as an Auror were true.

"Is he leaving?" Willow asked. Then, more nervously, "Does he need his books back?"

Dumbledore laughed. "Ever the ambitious student, I see," he chuckled. "I'm beginning to see what the hat saw in you. Yes, he's going to have to go to London, and I'm sure he'll want his books back. However, that was not the real point."

Willow's mind worked again, trying to follow where he was leading. "Are you asking me to join?" she asked cautiously.

Dumbledore's kindly face sobered slightly. "Not yet, Willow, not yet. Moody certainly has a high opinion of you, and there are few people that can claim that, but not yet. None of the other members know you well enough, and we try to keep the group small."

"That's all right," Willow said quickly. She wasn't really disappointed about not being asked to join an organization that she knew next to nothing about and had only just heard of; she was more disappointed with herself that she couldn't figure out where Dumbledore was going. "So where do I come in?" she asked.

"Well, after this week, Moody is going to have to leave for London. He will leave as soon as Harry arrives on Friday."

"All right …" Willow still didn't see where she entered into the picture.

"That will leave us with a Defense Against the Dark Arts position open."

Willow's eyes bulged, and she gaped at him incredulously. "You can't be serious!?"

Dumbledore smiled at her surprise. "He's been grooming you for the position for some time," he noted. "Loaning you his books, asking you to teach Harry—your letters should prove good experience for writing lesson plans. And I quite liked what I saw from you in just the past two hours."

"Goddess …" Willow breathed. Then, a moment later, something occurred to her.

"Wait … no, I'm sorry, I can't …" she breathed.

"Harry will be taking Defense Against the Dark Arts specially from me," Dumbledore interrupted with a smile. He seemed to be much better at reading her than she was at reading him, Willow noticed. "He scored higher than anyone since Tom Riddle on the Dark Arts O.W.L. last June; in fact, he has already been teaching other students himself."

"Oh." Willow breathed a sigh of relief, though she still hadn't fully made up her mind about whether or not to accept.

"You don't need to answer right away," Dumbledore said. "I'd like to see how you do with the second and first years this afternoon, anyway. But please consider my offer. All of my other choices are also in the Order."

"Thanks," she said, not knowing what else to say.

Lunch passed, and Willow returned to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom to help Dumbledore with the second-year class; the topics of the day were Cornish and Welsh pixies, which Dumbledore released into the classroom one at a time and allowed the second-year students to attempt to capture them again. Willow moved around the room, helping the students with their enunciation and wand movements whenever she spotted any of them doing anything wrong, and encouraging a few of the more shy students to be a little more confident in their spellcasting. When the bell rang, Willow looked up at Dumbledore and offered him a shy smile, walking up to his desk.

"Thanks," she said quietly as the last of the second-years filed out and the earliest of the first-years began to nudge their way in. "This is really relaxing, actually. Why didn't you bring me in here before?"

Dumbledore laughed, and answered lightly, "Most of the staff actually don't find dealing with large groups of adolescents so calming," he said lightly. However, he held her eyes as he said it, and Willow suddenly heard his voice in the silence of her mind. _I had to wait until you were feeling good about yourself again._

Willow quickly understood, and nodded. With Harry and Buffy gone and her friends increasingly unavailable, her self-confidence had been rather strained and she had put herself under a lot of stress. In addition, her thoughts had begun to grow darker again when she thought about Tara and Warren and Dawn in the car. Knowing that Harry was coming back had been a huge boost for her mood, however, and the darkness seemed much further away than it had just a few hours earlier.

The first-years filed in, and Willow smiled lightly at Vincent Byron as he took a seat near the front. He waved at her as he came in; apparently, the word had gotten out that Willow had left her hermitage to help Dumbledore with his lessons today.

"Good morning, everyone!" Dumbledore said as the two o'clock bell rang. The usual round of introductions followed.

"It appears Professor Snape has been pushing you rather hard," Dumbledore noted. "You've already made it to Disarming Charms. Impressive. Well, well, this should be quite interesting." He quickly had the class move their desks to the side of the room.

"Very well," Dumbledore continued. "Everyone please pair off, and let's see what you've learned."

The students quickly paired off, but there were thirty-seven students in the class, so there was one student left without a partner. As it turned out, that was Vincent. Willow looked at Dumbledore, who smiled and shrugged, before going over to the first-year boy.

"You can practice with me, if you'd like," she offered.

Vincent, who had been about to group up with another two Slytherins to make a trio, turned at the sound of her voice. He smiled a moment later, and gave her a polite bow. "I'd be honored," he said, bringing a smile to Willow's face.

They took positions across from each other at the front of the room, each at the end of the two lines of students facing each other that had formed as the practical session got under way.

"Go for it," Willow encouraged him.

Vincent nodded. Willow suddenly realized that almost all the others had stopped, and were watching the two of them. She didn't realize she would attract such attention. Vincent swished his wand, and chanted clearly, _"Expelliarmus!"_ Willow didn't bother to defend; she wasn't here to practice dueling. She let her wand fly from her grasp, and gave Vincent a quick thumbs-up. Only three of the other first-years in the room had been able to make it work on the first try.

"Do keep practicing," Dumbledore called from the front of the room, and the rest of the class, as if suddenly awoken from a daydream, quickly resumed their own practice.

"Did you just win some status?" Willow joked as she retrieved her wand.

Vincent laughed. "Not really. You didn't block."

Willow smiled. He definitely took the Game seriously, but then again, he also seemed to be pretty good at it.

"Come on, try again," she said.

"Aren't you going to try?" he asked.

"I don't think I should," she said simply. "I'm the teacher. At least, sort of." She wondered at the sound of that in her voice, however. _I'm the teacher._ She found that it had a rather pleasant ring to it.

Vincent shrugged. "Very well," he said, and he disarmed her again.

She was recovering her wand from the third time he disarmed her when he called, "Block it this time."

Willow laughed, and shook her head modestly. "That's not why I'm here," she reminded him.

"I know," he said. "I just want to feel how far I have to go."

Willow smiled. He was definitely ambitious, and Moody had even commented once that the lad had the intelligence of Ravenclaw's best and the ambition of Slytherin's worst. "Maybe later," she demurred.

"Very well," he said, but a sly grin split his face a moment later, and Willow tensed.

_"Rictusempra!"_ he chanted.

_"Protego!"_ Willow reacted instinctively. She was not about to let herself get magically tickled in front of an entire room full of eleven-year-olds. She had had enough of that when she had been an occasional babysitter back when she was genuinely sixteen. Apparently there was something universal about eleven-year-old boys and tickling. In fact, she thought with a wicked grin as memories of a certain night above a shop in Diagon Alley resurfaced, many apparently never grew out of it.

"Thanks," Vincent said with a smile and a graceful bow. She had deflected his spell easily, but he had gotten what he wanted, and Willow had to give a resigned smile. He had a long way to go, but he was only eleven and already had a better control of his wand and his will than many of the third-years she had watched slogging through the swamp earlier. If he stayed as proportionately far ahead of the class as he was, Willow was almost positive he'd be a prefect in four years, unless there were some big surprises in the rest of the incoming class in the fall.

"All right then!" Dumbledore called. "Well, before we put the desks back, I believe we have time for a game of Dodge-Charm. Two points to the winner, one to second place. Good luck, everyone!"

Willow quickly backed out of the way, guessing from the look Dumbledore sent her way that she wasn't supposed to participate in this one. Charms suddenly started flying in all directions, and Dumbledore quickly summoned a clear, semicircular shield in front of himself and beckoned Willow to get behind it as well. She was only too eager.

Several minutes later, Vincent Byron was left squaring off with Torrence Appleby across the room. Willow was surprised to see the shy, slender Gryiffindor whom she remembered from the stairwell all those weeks ago as one of the last two remaining, but then remembered that Torrence was one of the three others to have worked the Disarming Charm correctly on the first try at the beginning of the lecture, so she had to have been practicing. What had the hat said about her? _Hmm, shy are we?_ _But there's something under there … yes, definitely, such a spark burning in there, if we can bring it to life …_ __

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Vincent chanted.

_"Wingardium Leviosa!" _the girl chanted at the same time. A wand that had been disarmed from someone else floated up into her outstretched hand, and she held her actual wand behind her, allowing Vincent's charm to knock the other one from her hand.

_"Expel …,"_ Vincent chanted again, but he broke off in mid-chant as the other girl began to try the same tactic again. He grinned. _"Rictusempra!"_

The other girl was not expecting that, and gave a sudden squeal of laughter as the force of the Tickling Charm wrapped around her ribs. Vincent cast another Disarming Charm a moment later, and it was over. Willow put a hand to her forehead and shook her head, but quickly stuck her wand out from behind Dumbledore's shield and chanted _"Finite Incantatem"_ to end Vincent's spell, since had hadn't lost his wand or cancelled the charm. Vincent turned and smiled at her sheepishly. Dumbledore lowered the shield a moment later.

"Well done, all of you!" he said. "And yes, two points to Vincent Byron for his victory, and one to Torrence Appleby for a splendid effort as well."

The rest of the lesson didn't require partnering off, so Willow returned to her spot at the front of the class as the first-years pushed their desks back into place for a lesson on some basic detecting charms. As with the other classes, Willow walked around helping students individually where she could while Dumbledore stood and lectured from the front. It seemed like barely any time had passed when the dismissal bell rang.

"Well, what do you think?" Dumbledore asked, once all the students had left the classroom.

"Hmm. I think Vincent is a little too fond of that Tickling Charm."

Dumbledore laughed, his eyes sparkling merrily. "Indeed. I do believe he tried that on you just to see if he could do it. I believe he may have had his eye on Torrence for a few weeks now."

"Dumbledore!!" Willow flushed. _They're both only eleven!_ she thought to herself. _People weren't really starting that young back in Sunnydale, were they?_ Then again, they might have been, and she would have missed it completely.

Dumbledore chuckled. "It's surprising how much one can see from the teachers' table," he noted sagely. "And I've been occupying that seat for a great many years now. But speaking of the teachers' table … are you still interested?"

Willow sighed. She still had no real idea what she was getting into, but when it came down to it, she had enjoyed these lessons. Nonetheless, she only half believed what she was saying as she answered, "You know what? I think I am."

The venerable wizard smiled. "Splendid. Alastor will be pleased to hear it, I'm sure. And, I believe, a certain aspiring Auror will be as well."

Willow smiled. He probably would, at that.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I hit the 500 review mark! W00t! (And neither Harry nor Draco have even reappeared yet … wowzers!) Thanks to everyone who's been with this fic for a while now; this is definitely the biggest fanfiction project I've ever undertaken and you guys have made keeping going on this a heckuva lot easier. [Bows. Not worthy! Not worthy!]

** Coming Soon: **Chapter 36, "Reunited." Harry returns. 'Nuff said.

** Sneak Preview:**

_ She turned around at last. Harry was more visible from this angle, and he was rising to his feet. She felt her heart rise into her throat._

Vowel sounds,_ she reminded herself. _Just manage a few vowel sounds.


	36. Reunited

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

**      CHAPTER 36:**

**      REUNITED**

      Willow knelt on a soft pad on the floor in front of her bed, breathing deeply.  It was taking a titanic act of self-control to keep her meditation going; there was far too much trying to run through her mind and disrupt the energy flows within her.

      She was practicing a mystically-enhanced brand of circadian meditation that she had learned from volume eight of _Constant Vigilance_; it had been a godsend to her over the two weeks since she had read it, allowing her to get the benefit of eight hours' sleep in three and remain at least partially alert to her surroundings the entire time.  However, she was finding it harder now than she had since her first night of trying.  It actually took quite a bit of concentration to think about _nothing,_ and that was far more difficult that normal this morning.

      _Dumbledore, it's three a.m., don't you ever sleep?_

_      Of course not, but that's a different story._

      She banished the wayward memory and forced herself to focus on her own essence, gradually, carefully resetting the flows and weaves that had been disrupted by the previous day's practice.  She and Tara had actually begun practicing something similar during their last year together, though they had never gotten as far.  With a mental flinch, she forced that memory and the baggage that went with it from her mind as well.

      She finally set the last flows in place and emerged from her trance, letting her energy settle.  Her shoulders slumped forward for a moment, and a warm, refreshing glow spread through her.  A lazy smile spread across her face.  That afterglow had always been the best part of the meditation.  She stretched languidly and purred softly.

      "Welcome back," Squiggles greeted her.

      "Mmm," she responded lazily.

      "It took sssomewhat longer today, yesss?"

      "I guess so," she answered.  "Though, all things considered, today, I'm surprised it didn't take …" her eyes suddenly widened in horror as a bell tolled in the distance.  It was already seven!  Breakfast was being served, and Harry's train would have already arrived!  The early-morning Express was timed to give people a chance to make it to breakfast at Hogwarts if they wanted.  She muttered a curse, quickly cast her Dressing and Grooming Charms, and bolted from the room, giving a quick farewell to Squiggles on her way out the door.

      She forced herself to walk slowly as soon as she reached the Slytherin common room, as from that point on, there was a fairly consistent flow of students toward the Great Hall, and she had a feeling they would all know something was up if she seemed to be in too much of a hurry.  Nonetheless, forcing herself to walk at a normal speed … well, all right, faster than normal but far slower than she wanted … was torture.  Her first instinct had been to fly down the great stairwell to the Entrance Hall.

      Eventually, she reached the Great Hall, and cast her eyes on Harry for the first time since that night at Diagon Alley.  He was already seated at the Gryffindor table, though he seemed to sense when she was entering the room somehow, because he looked up from his table and looked her in the eyes only seconds after she came into view.  Her heart lurched, but she was forced to give a helpless shrug and drag herself over towards her own table.  He gave her a shrug in answer, though his for some reason didn't seem as pained as hers felt, but she guessed that could just be her imagination.

      A few minutes passed, and Willow had only begun to pick at her food.  Food was the last thing on her mind at the moment.  She couldn't even get a look at Harry; the Gryffindor table was packed solid around him, with several students standing in the aisles behind him and across from him as well, welcoming him back and listening to his horror stories about his summer with the Dursleys.

      "Not hungry?" a gruff voice asked from beside her.  Willow turned, startled, as Professor Moody sat down next to her.  She had been concentrating so hard across the room that she had completely missed the sound of his wooden footfalls approaching.

      "You can have mine, if you want it," Willow answered wryly.

      "I already had a dozen turkey links, six eggs, four biscuits, two oranges, and half a gallon of milk.  I'll be all right until lunch."

      "That's nice."  That was more than Willow usually ate in two days.

      "Did you finish?"

      Willow sighed.  "Yeah, I stayed up late last night finishing the last one.  Couldn't really sleep anyway, and the circadian trance wasn't exactly working like it's supposed to, either."

      "You did arrive a little later than I expected."

      "Yeah, I finished just a minute before the bell sounded."

      "Ah, well.  This is my last day, you know."

      "So I've heard."

      "I think you're going to do fine here."

      Willow smiled, and turned to look at him at last, then.  She had still been watching Harry, or where Harry would have been were he visible through the crowd.  She shrugged shyly.  "Thanks," she managed.

      Moody looked into her eyes and held them, then, and his words flashed through her head without the need for him to move his lips, just as Dumbledore's had days earlier: _And don't a'think he's a'forgotten about you, lassie,_ the thought came.  _Don't even be a'thinkin' it for a minute._

      Willow smiled, and couldn't suppress a laugh.

      A flutter of wings overhead announced the arrival of the morning mail.  Willow didn't bother to look up; Harry was back at school, now, so it wasn't really likely she would be receiving anything.  Thus, she started when an owl floated down in front of her and dropped a pair of letters beside her plate.

      "Looks like your invitation's finally here," Moody observed, noting the first letter, much thicker than the second, which more an ornate crest with a calligraphic 'M' in the center.  The scarred professor quickly tossed the owl a few pieces of diced ham to send it on its way.

      "Guess I'm on the guest list after all," Willow observed, sliding open the letter and reading it.  It was not personalized, but the invitation itself was as ornate as the envelope, written in elegant letters of brilliant silver on Egyptian papyrus.  She smiled.  Well, it had been a little late in coming, so she wasn't exactly going to get any status out of it, but at least she felt a little more important again.

      The second letter had no return address.  Willow eyed it carefully, and actually scanned it for enchantments before slipping it open.  Her eyes widened.

      It was from Harry.  He had to have sent it the previous night, just in case.

      _Willow,_

_      If you're ready for everyone to know about us, wait for me by the door of the Hall.  I'll be there.  If not, I guess I'll see you in the library._

_      Passion,_

_      Harry_

"Interesting," Moody said slyly from beside her.

      "You were reading?!" Willow asked, stunned, and a little offended.

      Moody pointed at his magical eye.  "I can't help it sometimes.  But the look on your face would have been 'interesting' enough."

      Willow squirmed uncomfortably.

      "Anyway," Moody said, rising to his feet.  "I told you.  Oh, and could you stop by my office later for some last-minute things?"  He left it unsaid that he was going to want his books back; Willow knew him well enough by now to get the point, but he was cautious enough not to reveal that she had been borrowing and reading his books.  With a casual farewell, Moody clunked off back towards the teachers' table.

      Willow took a few deep breaths, and made up her mind.  He was back.  She had promised herself and promised herself that she was not going to keep up this masquerade once he was back, and she was not going to allow herself to back out of it now.  Only … it was so soon.  She had not been expecting him back for another week and a half.

      She got up from the table and walked slowly towards the back of the hall, not allowing herself to look over in his direction, not sure herself where her mind lay as she got closer to the doors at the rear of the hall.  It would be so easy to just keep walking through them, to keep everything to herself for just a few more days, just a few more hours.

      When she reached the doors of the hall, she took a deep breath.

      Then she stopped.

      She turned around at last.  Harry was more visible from this angle, and he was rising to his feet.  She felt her heart rise into her throat.

      _Vowel sounds,_ she reminded herself.  _Just manage a few vowel sounds._

Harry was walking towards her now.  Willow swore a silent oath.  A lot of the Gryffindors were following him; apparently there had been some tacit agreement among them that breakfast was going to end whenever Harry left.  Many of them were leaving half-eaten plates, which was definitely not something for which the raucous warrior House was known.  Harry stayed several strides in front of them, however.

      Willow was half-leaning against one side of the archway from the Great Hall to the Entrance Hall as Harry approached the other side.  He stopped, and looked straight into her eyes then.  As he did that, Willow felt the same surge of confidence build within her that she remembered from the first time she had met him, when he had helped her through the barrier to the Hogwarts Express.  She smiled, then, a warm, golden smile that even she knew she had not shown in weeks.

      Harry matched it, the roguish grin spreading across his face and dissolving the last of her fear.  "It's good to see you again," he said.  "And … thanks."

      "I'm enjoying it on this side, too," Willow said, her voice nowhere near as calm as her posture.  Harry certainly didn't seem to have a problem with that, however, as his smile only widened as he heard the emotion in her voice.

      Suddenly, in two quick strides, they had reached each other, meeting directly under the center of the Great Hall arch.  She was leaning into him, and his arms were around her waist, lifting her from her feet.  She could feel the eyes of the entire Great Hall on her, and there was a collective gasp from every House at once, but Willow no longer cared.  She braced her legs on his thighs and held on for dear life.

      "Goddess, I've missed you so much," she cried softly into his ear.

      "I don't know how I made it through this summer without you," he whispered back.

      The Gryffindors that had been trailing Harry had all stopped, as stunned as the rest of the hall, as Harry and Willow had flown into each others' arms.  Suddenly, however, one of them, somewhere in the crowd, broke out into a laugh.  Another one followed a moment later.  Then the floodgates loosened, and a torrent of cheering, catcalls, and screaming burst from the Gryffindors, and a number of the Hufflepuffs as well; the Ravenclaws were a little more reserved, and the Slytherins, as Willow had guessed they would be, were totally thunderstruck, even awed.

      "You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet," she laughed weakly.  A tear dripped out of one of her eyes and fell onto his robes.

      "Actually, I think it's you doing that."

      "What?"  Willow pulled back suddenly and looked down.  She and Harry were floating a foot off the ground.  She hadn't even noticed.  "Oh, Goddess …" she whispered.

      Harry laughed, and pulled her back into his embrace.  Several of the other Gryffindors, having recovered from the shock and generally grinning wildly, were taking it on their initiative to cast small fireworks like those Harry and Ron had set off when Willow had Defenestrated Peeves, and Hermione and some of the more controlled older students were making sure that they didn't hurt anyone or set anything aflame.

      "You know, I don't think a day went by when I didn't dream of a different way I wanted to let the whole school know about us," Harry whispered softly, as a brilliant trail of red and gold spun around them.  "But this is better than any of them."

      Willow chuckled weakly.  She hadn't exactly had those kind of dreams, but that hardly mattered now.  "Just having you here again is all I dreamed about," she whispered back.

      "I know.  I've missed you so much," he said, tightening his embrace.  Willow sank into it appreciatively.

      "Good to hear," she nearly giggled.  She was _not_ going to giggle!

      "Anyway," he whispered again.  "Do you maybe want to go somewhere more private?"

      Willow laughed.  "Read my mind."  Their feet touched the ground again as she said this.

      Harry backed away enough to give himself space for an extravagant bow.  He offered her his arm with a flourish as he rose, and Willow, more than willing to put up with a little bit of boyish antics at the moment, slipped her arm into his with a shy flourish of her own.

      Arm in arm, Willow and Harry walked from the Great Hall, to the mixed amusement of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, the rousing cheers of the Gryffindors, and the stunned silence of the House of Serpents.

      **Author's Notes:**

First and foremost, thanks for everyone who's been with this story from the beginning, and has been extremely patient with me during a long time during a Harry Potter crossover sans Harry Potter.  We'll see a bit more of him from now on, I promise.

      Second, my sincerest apologies that I haven't posted in a couple of weeks now.  My computer has been packed away, as I've sort of been busy **_GRADUATING!!!!_**  Woohoo!!  The Ohio State University has finally turned me loose!  (The world will never be the same …)  Then again, I just start up again in the fall again anyway (as many fanfiction writers have surely asked themselves on numerous occasions, what's so great about the real world anyway?), putting off that whole "reality" thing for another three years, hiding away at the University of Virginia Law School.  Hopefully they'll be merciful with their homework to leave me time for the more important things in life … sequels, spinoffs, that kind of thing … ;-)

      **Coming Soon: **Chapter 37, "Dinner and a Letter."  Harry and Willow catch each other up on events of the summer, and the Slytherin reaction to Willow's surprise is not long in coming.

      **Sneak Preview:**

_      Harry took a quick look around to make sure they were alone, then tapped the map with his wand and announced proudly, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_

_      A brief message flickered across the surface of the parchment.  _With a fox like that?  Who wouldn't be?


	37. Dinner and a Letter

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

**      CHAPTER 37:**

**      DINNER AND A LETTER**

      "Well, lassie, you two certainly know how to make an exit."

      Willow grinned and shrugged diffidently.  "Thanks, professor," she said, handing the last two volumes of _Constant Vigilance_ back to the wooden-legged professor.  He took them with a bemused grin and threw them into the second compartment of his enchanted trunk.

      "And thanks for all your help over the summer, too," Harry added.  "It's meant a lot to me."

      Moody laughed.  Willow took a breath; even after weeks of visiting the former Auror's office on a regular basis, she still found his laugh chilling.  "Don't mention it, laddie," he chuckled.  "Keep practicing.  Minerva will make an Auror out of you yet."

      "I will," Harry promised.

      They were sitting in Moody's office, which was nearly completely bare by now, as Moody was almost completely packed to leave for London.

      "So … are you leaving tonight?" Willow asked.

      Moody chuckled.  "Now, now, lassie, there's a Hogsmeade visit tomorrow, you really don't think I'd a' be missing that, would you?"

      Willow laughed.  She had almost forgotten about that in her excitement over … other things.

      "I'll go into the village with the students in the morning.  Take the public Floo to London from there that afternoon."

      "Couldn't resist a little more butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?" Harry asked with a knowing grin.

      Moody's eyes glinted with dangerous humor.  "'Course not.  Not that I drink much, mind you, but I've got my first meeting with that prat Fudge Saturday evening.  You don't really think I'd show up sober?"

      Harry laughed.  "Fudge wants to meet the new point man in London, I'm guessing?"

      Moody somehow managed to laugh and grunt at the same time.  "Bloody right.  But the new point man in London is not so keen on meeting him."

      "He is kinda stuffy," Willow admitted, remembering the short, self-important man who had appeared in Buffy's living room to deliver their invitations to Hogwarts.

      "That's a polite way of putting it," Moody agreed.  "I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, trying to make me into a suit."

      "What about Shacklebolt?" Harry asked.

      Moody shot Harry a look, as though he were talking about something he shouldn't be, but Willow shrugged.  She'd never heard of Shacklebolt, whoever he was.  Probably some other member of the Order that Dumbledore had mentioned, but she wasn't trying to pry.  Moody shrugged.  "Dumbledore doesn't want to expose him yet, and much as I'd love to leave him the job, I have to agree."

      "Well, do write sometimes, OK?" Willow added with a shy grin.  She had never felt really comfortable showing much emotion, let alone affection, around Moody, but Harry was here now, the scarred older man was about to leave, and he really had done a lot for her over the past several weeks.

      "Oh, you bet I will, lassie," Moody answered with a rough grin.  "Have to see how you're doing with my job, don't I?"

      "Your job?" Harry asked.

      Willow's eyes widened.  She hadn't gotten around to telling him yet.  Of course, it had only been a few hours and they had spent most of it telling far more pointless but more personal stories with Ron and Hermione, and talking about Buffy's long absence and the upcoming Malfoy inauguration.

      Moody cast her a knowing look with his artificial eye.  "You didn't tell him?"

      "I was going to tonight.  We've had a lot to talk about."

      "Told me what?" Harry asked impatiently.

      Moody shook his head, bemused.  "Young Miss Rosenberg here is taking over for me when I leave."

      Harry's eyes widened.  "You're kidding!"

      Willow smiled and shrugged sheepishly.  "Just following in your footsteps."

      "My footsteps?"

      "Dumbledore told me you taught other students last year."

      Harry's eyes widened.  His thoughts seemed to swirl for a moment, then a slow, self-depreciating look spread across his face.  He leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.  "I guess I did, at that," he noted.

      "And this year, you won't have to be secret, so you can keep teaching."

      "But will I have to … I mean, will I be …?"

      Willow laughed.  "Don't worry, I asked the same thing.  No, you're not.  Dumbledore said he'll be teaching you, not me."

      Harry's eyes lit up at that.  "Seriously?"

      Willow nodded, glad that Harry wasn't mad that Dumbledore hadn't told him first.  "He seemed to think you were a little better than sixth year—and plus, I don't think he wanted to put us in that situation.  He seems to be really nice about things like that."

      "Bloody softie, he is," Moody growled affectionately.  "If I were him, I'd have put him in your class and given you permission for corporeal punishment."

      "Oh, we might do that anyway," Willow added quickly, with studied absence.

      Harry flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet.

      The air of excitement permeating the school grew more and more tangible as the day progressed; it was the last day of classes, and the last Hogsmeade visit of the summer was the following day.  The younger students had finals the following week, but most of the older students were doing independent studies, and almost all of them had worked hard to finish before the Hogsmeade trip, and to have a week off before the start of fall term.

      "There has to be somewhere more private than this," Willow mused, nuzzling Harry's shoulder and nodding in the direction of several other groups of children engaged in various disports around the top of the astronomy tower.  She had a feeling that none of them were wholly concentrating on what they seemed to be doing.  Harry Potter dating a Slytherin was the kind of stuff of which legends were made, even without anyone else knowing all the gory details of her past.

      Harry simply hummed absently for a few seconds, then started as her words finally reached him.  "Well, I'm sure there's a classroom somewhere," he mused hesitantly.

      Willow made a negative noise.

      She felt Harry brighten next to her a moment later.  "Hey, I know a place," he said, rising to his feet and offering her his hand to help her do the same a moment later.  "Come on."

      She smiled at his enthusiasm, trying not to look back at any of the other students watching Harry practically drag her away from the tower.

      "So where are we going?" she asked as he started leading her into a part of the castle she had only been in once before.

      "It's a secret place I used to use as a classroom when I was teaching other students Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry explained.

      "A secret place … except for the whole everyone knows about it thing," Willow noted.

      Harry laughed sheepishly.  "Well, if anyone's in there practicing, we'll find somewhere else."

      They reached the seventh floor corridor, and Harry stopped after walking past an enormous tapestry a few times.

      "Is it behind the tapestry?" Willow asked uncertainly.

      "Nope," Harry answered.  "Behind you."

      Willow turned.  On the wall opposite the tapestry, a large, polished door with a brass handle had appeared, which she would have sworn was not there before.  A moment later, Willow's eyes narrowed, however.  "That doesn't look like the door of a private room," she noted.

      Harry's eyes narrowed as well.  "You're right …" he managed as he reached out slowly and turned the latch.  "Bloody hell!" he gasped a moment later, after looking inside.

      "What?" Willow asked, reflexively reaching for her wand.  She had sensed magic being used within as soon as he had opened the door.

      Harry stepped back from the door and shut it as quickly and quietly as he could.  "We need to get out of here," he said earnestly.

      "What …?"

      "Just come on!" he continued, with greater insistence, practically pulling her down the hall.

      _"Circum Obfuscato!"_ Willow hissed, finally getting her hand on her wand within her robe.  Harry stopped and jerked away, sensing her power building, and was about to say something about it when he realized that he couldn't see her anymore.  Looking down, he realized that he couldn't see himself anymore, either.  Willow quickly reached out to where she knew he was, hoping he hadn't moved, and fortunately guessed right.  Harry quickly drew her into his embrace, and they settled down behind the foot of a statue some distance down the corridor.

      The door of the Room of Requirement opened a moment later, and Pansy Parkinson emerged.

      "You sure, Bulstrode?" the Slytherin prefect called back over her shoulder.

      "Positive," Millicent Bulstrode's voice answered from within the room.  "He was there."

      "Great, that tramp is going to know about us."

      A figure pushed past Pansy into the hallway, and Willow recognized the seventh-year Slytherin prefect, Miles Barclay.  "Maybe.  Maybe not.  I'm guessing he was only here for a moment.  If he had been listening, he wouldn't have opened the door."

      "He wasn't listening," Martin Gandersworth's echoed into the hallway.  "None of the wards on the room were broken."

      "You can never tell with that git," Pansy seethed.

      "No, Martin's right," Miles continued.  "I'm sure he saw us, but he can't have heard much.  After all, we required a soundproofed room.  But Rosenberg will be on her guard now."

      "Bloody hell," Pansy swore as she strode back inside the room.  Miles followed, slowly, looking down the corridor in the direction they had gone until he, too, was back within the room.

      "What did you see?" Willow whispered to Harry, still not extricating herself from his embrace.

      "Not much," Harry admitted.  "But it can't be good, whatever it is.  They were all working around a table, it actually looked like they were writing or drawing something.  I have no idea."

      "Me neither," Willow admitted disappointedly after a moment of racking her brain.

      "On the other hand," Harry said, massaging her head slowly and drawing a soft purr from Willow, "I had no idea you'd learned to become invisible without a cloak."

      "They have cloaks?"

      "Sure.  I've got one that my dad left to me."

      "That would make it a lot easier," Willow noted.  Basic invisibility wasn't extremely hard, but it was a lot harder to hide someone else at the same time, and Willow had used a more powerful variety that made it harder to detect or counter.  From the way Miles had been looking down the corridor before returning into the room, she guessed that had probably been a good precaution.

      "But we should probably get out of here before they come out again."

      Willow groaned softly.  Sitting here in each other's arms, invisible to the rest of the world, had a certain allure at the moment.  Had there not been five scheming Slytherins in the room just down the hall, she would even have considered this fun.  As it was, though, she forced herself to admit that Harry was right.  "All right," she managed.  "So where now?"

      "Hmm.  Not sure.  Hey, wait … the map!"

      Willow's invisible eyes widened.  She had completely forgotten about Harry's enchanted map of the castle; it had been lying in the bottom of her socks drawer for weeks, since Peter had been captured and she had not wanted to risk it getting lost, seen, or damaged.

      "Good idea," she whispered back.  They kept a hand in each other's as they rose to their feet and backed away around the nearest corner.  Once they were out of sight of the entrance to the Room of Requirement, Willow dispelled the invisibility spell.

      Harry made a brief move to Summon the map, but Willow stopped him, explaining that she had been layering her room with wards.  Harry nodded and put his wand away, and agreed to meet her in the stairwell a few floors below the entrance to Slytherin Tower, so there wouldn't be any risk of him getting caught lurking outside the Slytherin dorms.

      Willow entered the dorms alone with no small amount of trepidation, wondering if the Pansy Posse had already left a nasty surprise for her, but the trip was anticlimactic.  The Slytherins gathered in the common room were intent on their studies, and while a few turned sneering looks at her, most backed away as she passed.  She set a few additional spells and tripwires from the latest volume of _Constant Vigilance _in place, just for some additional peace of mind, retrieved the map, and was gone from the Tower again.

      Harry met her on the fifth floor landing, and together they quickly turned away into the fifth floor corridor.

      Harry took a quick look around to make sure they were alone, then tapped the map with his wand and announced proudly.  "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

      A brief message flickered across the surface of the parchment.  _With a fox like that?  Who wouldn't be?_

Harry laughed, and a rosy tinge rose in Willow's cheeks, as the message faded and the familiar lines of the map began to appear on the parchment.

      "What was that about?" Willow asked, a little short of breath.

      Harry's grin was decidedly impish.  "Either my dad or Sirius, hard to tell which."

      "So their personalities are in here?"

      "Reflections of them.  Just like in the portraits," Harry confirmed.  A moment later, his expression saddened a little.  "Not enough of them there to have a real conversation or anything, though.  I wish."  His voice trailed off at the end, and Willow gave him a tight squeeze, which he returned gratefully.

      "So," Willow continued.  "Two hours 'til dinner.  See anyplace that looks promising?"

      Harry and Willow scanned the page for a minute.  "Hey, what about this place, that looks all out of the way and private?" Willow suggested, pointing to a spot that looked as though it were sort of part of the second floor, but then again, sort of … odd.  She was already second-guessing herself when Harry answered.

      "That would be private, but maybe not the best place to go.  Sort of a secret area, you have to reach it through a trapdoor on the third floor.  The kept the Philosopher's Stone there my first year.  Devil's Snare, life-size Wizard's Chess pieces, swarms of enchanted flying keys like wasps …"

      "I get the picture," Willow cut him off.  "All right, not there."  Then something hit her, something Harry had mentioned in passing weeks ago at the Atlantis but that had slipped her mind, and she suddenly kicked herself for not thinking of it for all these weeks when she had been looking for someplace large and private to practice her more powerful spells.  "Hey, what about that Parseltongue chamber?"

      "The Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked, wonderingly.  "Well, it would certainly be private, and the only thing that was guarding it is dead now … but it's a bit gloomy and dirty."

      "We can fix it up!" Willow answered with a light smile.  "Maybe it just needs a woman's touch."

      Harry laughed uproariously.  "I wonder what Salazar would say to that," he mused, a twinkle blossoming in his eye that reminded Willow suddenly of Dumbledore.  "Well, it's kind of a long way, but if you're serious, we can go after dinner.  We wouldn't have time to do much there if we went now."

      "Maybe," Willow answered, actually more interested now than she had been when she brought up the subject; she had only been half-serious.  She really did want to see the place, though—from what she had read for her History of Magic class, it was not only the most secret place in Hogwarts but among the most secret places ever created.  "So, where until then?"

      Harry looked around, a mischievous grin on his face.  "Well, I don't see anyone else here, do you?"

      Ninety minutes later, Harry and Willow arrived, hand in hand, at the door of the Great Hall for dinner.  A collective ripple passed through the throng as nearly everyone turned to look in their direction at least briefly.  The students trickling past them into the hall gave them looks of varying degrees of approval, amusement, and disdain, as well as jealousy from more than a few of the girls.

      They halted just past the arch; they were going to have to separate for dinner.  "Come back soon?" Willow offered nervously.

      "Come back in one piece?" Harry answered flippantly.  Willow winced.  Yes, this could be interesting.  Reflexively, she cast a glance down the Slytherin table to where the five students who had attacked her were sitting.  They were studiously avoiding looking at her, but even Willow knew enough about the Slytherin game to know that they were thinking about her.  A lot.

      "I'll do my best," she answered softly.

      "I'll keep an eye out," Harry reassured her.  He drew away, extending his arm to its fullest to prolong their contact as long as possible, before turning and walking over to sit at the Gryffindor table.  Willow waited a little longer before taking her seat at the Slytherin table.

      The food had not yet been served, which normally meant that Dumbledore had announcements to make.  Sure enough, less than a minute after she had sat down, he tapped his glass with his spoon for silence; somehow, the sound could be heard throughout the hall without hurting anyone's ears.

      "Good evening, good evening!" he chirruped happily.  "Goodness, this has been a busy summer, quite the busiest ever here at Hogwarts!  Well done, everyone!

      "I have two short announcements before we begin our last Friday meal of summer session," Dumbledore continued.  "First, if you haven't tried any of Winky's golden marinated turkey, you really must, it's quite heavenly."  There was a general laugh.

      "Second," Dumbledore continued, "I know I haven't been around much lately, but I will be settling in tonight and staying for the duration of fall term.  However, Professor Moody will not be able to stay with us for the fall, so we will have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."  The hall got noticeably quieter at that; Moody and Lupin had both been incredibly popular, especially considering the experience the school had had over the past few years.

      "Fortunately," Dumbledore went on, once he was sure he had everyone's attention, "Many of you already know her, and I do believe most of our underclassmen feel she has done a wonderful job and will enjoy taking classes with her in the fall.  Our new position in the fall will be filled by Miss Willow Rosenberg."

      Willow felt color rise in her face as Dumbledore announced that.  A general murmur of surprise ran through the crowd, and all eyes turned in her direction.  The embarrassment only got worse a few seconds later, when several of the underclassmen whom she had met over the previous few days started clapping and cheering enthusiastically.  She ducked her head to hide the color in her cheeks.

      Dumbledore smiled reassuringly, and Willow hunted across the room until she found Harry's eyes and found them.  That always sent a shot of self-confidence up her body, and she was able to slowly force her nerves back under control.

      "So, to our dear Slytherins, I'm afraid I'm going to have to steal her from your table after tonight," Dumbledore continued.  Willow's eyes widened.  She hadn't thought of that.  That was a definite plus.  The teachers' table didn't seem quite as political.  "And now, I believe I've taken enough of your time; let the feast—begin!"  Plates filled with food appeared on the tables, and most of the hall turned their attention away from Willow and closer to their own bellies.

      Several minutes passed, and many of the first- and second-year students nearby continued to give her congratulations, which she did her best to accept graciously, but she had never been really comfortable in the spotlight.  She tended to retreat inwards in an attempt to block out the attention.

      Suddenly, however, she realized that there had been a change in the voices in the room, and noticed several students looking up towards the ceiling.

      An owl had arrived.

      Willow's eyes narrowed.  She had seen owls arrive at dinner before, but only twice in the entire summer.  In addition, they were almost always family owls, bearing important news from major families to their heirs.  This was a young barn owl that clearly did not belong to any of the major lineages.  It was clutching a single letter in a red envelope, and moving much more quickly than either of the other two evening owls she had witnessed, as though it were eager to be rid of the package.

      It looked as though it were going to fly by Willow before it suddenly swooped down and deposited the letter in front of her, right on top of her plate.  It quickly flew off without even waiting to be paid; Willow held up a hand briefly as though to call it back, then realized the idiocy of such an idea and looked down at the letter in front of her.

      Her eyes narrowed.  The envelope was red, nondescript, and had no return address.  But there was something about this that seemed very wrong …

      She suddenly realized that Harry was standing up at his place, looking concerned.  His wand was in his hand.

      A rustling sound to her left distracted her.  The other first-years nearby who had seen the envelope were backing away.  Willow felt sparks of mystical energy prickle in her awareness elsewhere in the hall and realized that several upperclass Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were weaving Silence Charms around themselves.  The upperclass Slytherins were looking down the table with interest, though.  On a dark suspicion, Willow reached into her robe for her wand.

      Vincent Byron had also stood to get a better look; he was not too far up the table, but he had advanced quickly among the older students and was shorter than anyone with whom he now sat.  "Willow, look out!" he called suddenly.  "Howler!"

      Willow barely had time to wonder, _A what?_ before the envelope suddenly burst open with a flash of flame.  A vague scent like an exotic flower touched Willow's nostrils for a moment, but it was immediately blocked out by the roar of a powerful, polyharmonic voice that sounded like several people talking at once filling the chamber.  Not talking, she realized a moment later.  Chanting.

      _"Serpensortia!"_ it roared.

      A black blur burst from the ashes of the letter, and a moment later, Willow screamed as something cold and scaly landed on her face.  She threw herself back from the table with a strangled cry, blind panic reaching up to seize her.  Her wand tumbled from her hands as she reflexively grappled at whatever it was that had landed on her.  Whatever it was, it definitely felt alive.

      Suddenly, she cried out in pain as she felt something hard and sharp pierce her neck.  Several younger students nearby, who could see what had happened, screamed.  Visions of vampires burst into Willow's awareness, and with a desperate heave, she finally got her hands around whatever it was on her neck and threw it off of her.  Her hands were suddenly unsteady, however, and her vision suddenly began clouding on the edges.  It was clear enough, however, for her to get a good look at the king cobra lying on the floor a few feet away, his fangs still red with her blood.

      **Author's Notes:**  Thanks to all readers for all the kind feedback on graduating.

      _LunaeDea88:_  Wow!  Impressive reviews, and you do note a lot of mistakes that I made that I only realized after I started posting.

      The Slytherin common rooms are supposed to be in the dungeons; I had read something that suggested once that they were in a tower, and had a Dragonspire-like vision for what I pictured as Slytherin's roost.  Hermione did indeed never take three years of Divination.  The post-first-years would indeed have taken the horseless carriages up to Hogwarts, and Harry return to the station on one.  (Another one you forgot to mention is that I had Hogwarts and Hogsmeade stations as two separate stations, based on the fact that it didn't look like there was much of a village around the station in the first movie, which was my first exposure to HP.)  I forgot about Dennis Creevey.  And, of course, the author's name correctly spelled is Rowling, not Rawling.

      A lot of things you saw stem from the fact that I saw the movies before I ever read the books (I was a LotR-only fan for a while).  The Great Stairwell is presumably to one side, or behind, the entrance hall; this would be the huge bottomless stairwell from the movies.  Calling the names first-name-first was a movie thing, as was the hat speaking out loud.

      Other things, I'm more inclined to defend: I've been to Scotland in June.  65 degrees is within normal range for summer (and I'm from Ohio, so it doesn't occur to me that such should be considered "freezing" :-P).  Voldemort could easily have been world wizard news, not British wizard news; all the different nations at the Quidditch World Cup seemed to know about him and recognize the Dark Mark, anyway.  I don't think the houses are really supposed to be "ranked" from best to worst in any objective sense (which is Hermione's forte).  I did have Lupin changing 3 days a month (see ch. 22); since only one class generally fell on those days (allowing for weekends and off-days), Dumbledore only has to teach once.  I also did have the predominant age of the first-years be eleven (see ch. 35).

      Does it ever say that Hogwarts doesn't accept exchange students?  Also, wouldn't someone with one Muggle and one magical parent be a Mudblood to Slytherin?

      The ages are always hard to reconcile in crossovers, especially because of the different release schedules of Buffy seasons and HP books.  Season 6 of Buffy ended May 23, 2002.  If we assume that to be real time and Harry's birthday to be 1980, then Harry would be 22.  Since this is Book 5, we know that he's 15.  The timelines don't merge for crossovers, you have to finagle them a little.

      _Erin:_ Another challenging review!  I like it, and thanks for your input.  I would answer: about the Creeveys and the timelines, see my response to LunaeDea: the Creeveys could still be half-Muggles, and the ages just have to be reworked as carefully as possible.  Los Angeles being on a Hellmouth was just my idea, seemed to explain some things (like why it seemed that a lot of the demons in L.A. were more powerful and more numerous than the ones in Sunnydale).

      Whew! You people keep me on my toes.

**      Coming Soon:**  Chapter 38, "Snakes."

**      Sneak Preview: **

****_It wasn't working.  The wound had been on her neck.  The poison was spreading too quickly, and her thoughts were growing too numb to work the spell properly.  She could feel the numbness reaching her chest, feel it creeping to her toes, and she spread her legs slightly to keep herself from falling._

_      From falling?_

Since when have I been standing? _she suddenly wondered._


	38. Snakes

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

**      CHAPTER 38:**

**      SNAKES**

      Chaos reigned in the Great Hall.  Benches were overturned as groups of students rose to their feet en masse, and at the front of the room, many teachers rose to their feet as well, wands in their hands.  There was a tumult as everyone started talking and screaming at once, and several older students started looking around the room as though expecting an attack from somewhere.  A few younger Slytherins, perhaps less indoctrinated into the cold politics of the House, perhaps simply possessed of that childish curiosity that knows little of death and dying, crowded around the fallen form of Willow Rosenberg, all trying to talk to her at once.

      Willow felt none of it.  All sounds were distant, thunderous echoes in her ears; her mind was going numb, even as it surged into overdrive.  She reached weakly for her wand; fortunately, it had not fallen far away.  She focused, her eyes burning, and it slid slowly, agonizingly across the floor towards her.

      She was sure Harry was already on his way around the hall, and several teachers were probably on their way down from their seats at the head of the great chamber as well, but in the crowd and chaos, she knew she would be comatose or worse by the time they reached her.

      Her fingers closed about the base of her wand, though the only way she knew it was by the feeling of its power suddenly coursing up her body again.  Her fingers were already completely numb.

      "Back," she rasped weakly.  Another thunderous, unintelligible echo answered her.

      "Back!" she repeated again, this time throwing her power behind the words.  A space cleared around her; whether the nearby students moved back or were thrown back, she neither knew nor cared.

      Numbly, working by instinct because she couldn't feel her hands or her wand, she touched the tip of her wand to the wound at her neck, only knowing when she had touched the right spot by the sense of pressure.

      _"Vipera virum expurgo,"_ she chanted slowly.  It was a fairly simple Auror spell, but serpent venom was intrinsically resistant to magic and Willow's will was already faltering.  She forced herself to concentrate harder, ignoring the pounding pressure in her head that doing so caused.  The first step was always the hardest; if she could just succeed in pulling it out a little, the rest would get progressively easier …

      It wasn't working.  The wound had been on her neck.  The poison was spreading too quickly, and her thoughts were growing too numb to work the spell properly.  She could feel the numbness reaching her chest, feel it creeping to her toes, and she spread her legs slightly to keep herself from falling.

      From falling?

      _Since when have I been standing?_ she suddenly wondered.

      Her eyes snapped back into focus.  _Something else is going on here,_ she realized.  She took a deep, rattling breath.  The poison was still spreading, and her body felt cold, but she suddenly realized that she could feel it again.  Meanwhile, her thoughts were clearing, though they felt different, as though somehow colder, like the rest of her body.  Her vision was in focus again, but everything seemed cast in a baleful greenish-yellow hue.

      "Ssspeak in our tongue!" a voice nearby suddenly said, vaguely concerned but also somewhat detached.  It somehow cut through the din, however, even though it was rather quiet.  Willow turned to see the cobra that had attacked her, now held by the throat by one Vincent Byron, who had grabbed the snake to keep it from attacking her again.  The cobra was meeting her eyes clearly, and somehow, she thought it seemed to recognize her.  It knew that she could speak its tongue, at any rate.

      She quickly decided to worry about that later.

      _A lot of people don't trust Parselmouths._

      She took a deep, painful breath.  There was nothing else to be said or done.  _All right, everyone,_ she thought.

      _"Out,"_ she hissed.  There were no fancy, convoluted turns of phrase, or ancient dialects of Latin or the tongues of other bygone human civilizations, in the speech of the serpents.  A gasp ran through a few of the nearby first-year Slytherins, but Willow didn't care.  The snake had been right; the spell had more power over the snake venom in Parseltongue.  Her thoughts cleared a little more, and some of the yellow tint in her eyes faded.

      _"Out!"_ she hissed again, louder, more forcefully.  She began to pull her wand away from her throat again, and this time a trail of inky darkness like liquid smoke came with it, trailing from the tip of her wand.

      A thrill of excitement and relief ran through her body as the venom left her.  She could feel it being drawn back through her veins to the wound on her throat, and she started to breathe normally again.  The color in her vision returned to normal, and the artificial coldness in her body and mind began to melt.

      She turned to look at the snake in Vincent's hands questioningly.  To her sudden surprise, it lowered its head as much as it could with Vicent's hands around its throat, as if bowing.

      "I am sssorry, my lady," it hissed.  "I did not recognissse you."

      _My lady?_ Willow wondered absently.  A moment later, however, she realized that everyone else in the hall was looking at her intently, and the enormity of what had just happened crashed in on her.

      "Oh, Goddess …" she breathed, and her knees folded.

      "Willow!" a voice behind her suddenly cried, and she heard the sound of running footsteps approaching.  A pair of arms enfolded her urgently from behind, and she felt herself collapsing into Harry's embrace instead of to the floor.  Her breathing was suddenly coming in long, labored gasps.

      "Willow, you're still bleeding," Harry whispered urgently.

      Willow nodded.  She focused her power again.  _"Omnipanacea,"_ she chanted softly.  Her breath suddenly left her in a whoosh, and she gave a ragged gasp.  _Ergh,_ she groaned silently.  _Goddess, what am I thinking?_  The Aurors' most powerful healing spell took a lot out of a person.  She could feel some of the damage to her lungs fade, and the wound on her neck closed slightly, but not enough.

      "What was that?" Harry asked urgently.

      "It is a healing spell, Harry," a kindly voice said from nearby.  "But perhaps she is a little tired to work it at the moment."  Willow and Harry looked up to see Dumbledore standing there; they had been concentrating on her so much that they hadn't even noticed his approach.

      Dumbledore quickly knelt down to look at Willow's neck, and a moment later, withdrew a small crystal decanter from within his robes.

      "Fawkes' tears," he explained.

      "Fox tears?" Willow asked questioningly.  What the heck could he do with fox tears?

      "Brilliant," Harry suddenly said, a note of intense relief in his voice.  Willow was about to ask what he meant, when Harry continued, "Willow, lean over," and began to lean her over himself without waiting for her cooperation, so that the cut on the side of her throat faced upward.

      "What?" she asked.

      "Phoenix tears," Dumbledore explained with a light smile, though it did not reach his eyes.  He quickly dripped a few drops of the priceless liquid onto her wound.

      Willow's eyes widened as she felt the power of the cool drops surge through her.  _Phoenix tears._  One of the most powerful restoratives in the universe.  It was like a river of warm, refreshing water was flowing through her, gently but quickly, washing away all the damage the poison had done and then some.  Moments later, she was on her feet again and able to stand by herself.

      "Thanks," she said simply.

      "You're quite welcome," Dumbledore said.

      "I'm glad you carry those around."

      Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.  "It did seem prudent," he agreed.  "However, I must say you are actually not the one I most expected to have to use them on."

      Harry shrugged sheepishly.

      "What about this fellow?" Moody asked.  Harry and Willow looked past Dumbledore to see the one-eyed professor, who had taken the cobra from a rather relieved-looking Vincent.

      "This was not his fault," Dumbledore responded.  "Perhaps Hagrid can take care of him."  He nodded back towards the teachers' table, where the enormous Care of Magical Creatures teacher was still sitting, having not wanted to risk hurting anyone by trying to force his way through the chaos.

      Moody nodded.  "Right."  Without another word, he turned and started working his way back through the crowd, which parted much more quickly for him now that it had when he had been pushing through it from behind; the show was over, and no student really felt like standing in the way of a seething ex-Auror carrying a large venomous snake.

      "Everyone, if you would please return to your seats!" Dumbledore only had to raise his voice slightly to make it carry somehow throughout the entire hall.  There was a great rustling of robes and scraping of benches as everyone quickly made to do, or at least act like they were doing, as Dumbledore asked.  Willow doubted they were out of anyone's mind yet.

      "Howlers can carry spells?" Harry asked.

      "Not usually," Dumbledore replied simply.  "Though it can obviously be done.  I'm rather curious as to how Willow's mysterious attackers managed it."

      Willow's mind worked.  Before the letter had shouted its curse, there had been something else …

      "Lotus," she said simply.

      "Lotus?" Harry asked.

      "Ah, of course," Dumbledore said, turning and lowering his nose to sniff the remains of the letter on the table.

      "Lotus?" Harry repeated.

      "It's a powerful magical flower," Willow explained.

      "I know that, I wasn't a complete fool in Herbology."

      "They put lotus petals in the envelope.  They burned when the envelope burst.  That let out enough power for the spell."

      Harry's eyes widened.  "Bloody hell," he whispered.

      "And I'm afraid they distorted their voices as well," Dumbledore added.  "So the Recall Charm will be of little use."

      Willow nodded, but somehow, that wasn't important to her; she had a fairly good idea of who her attackers had been.  Looking at Harry for confirmation, she saw that he was thinking the same thing.

      "Professor, can I take Willow somewhere private?" Harry asked concernedly.

      "I would think you ought to ask her that," Dumbledore said with a smile.  "But I see no reason she should stay.  Fawkes' tears are … well, Poppy shouldn't need to see her.  As to this … well, I'll have Moody investigate."  With that, Dumbledore gave them each a modest nod and turned back towards the teachers' table.

      "Thanks.  Uh … Willow?" Harry asked.

      Willow sent a venomous look down towards the head of the table, where the five Slytherins that had been conspiring in the Room of Requirement earlier that day were studiously avoiding looking down in her direction.  _They tried to kill me,_ she rasped.  At the very least, she could have been hospitalized.  Part of her realized that she was unlikely to have died with Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey there, but that part of her was extremely small at the moment.  The rest of her didn't care.  Someone had tried to kill her.  Somehow, she did not get quite the adrenaline rush out of that that Buffy always seemed to get, that always made her braver and stronger than before.

      She turned back to Harry.  "Let's get out of here," she practically cried.__

      "Chamber of Secrets?" he hissed softly in her ear, speaking Parseltongue just in case anyone at the head of the table had any Hearing Charms active.

      "Gladly," Willow answered.  Dumbledore and Moody would handle the investigation, and the last thing she wanted right then was a barrage of questions from either other students, or from Madame Pomfrey.  If there was a place where no one else could get to in Hogwarts, that was where she wanted to be at the moment.  She didn't care if it was cold and wet.  At the moment, she wouldn't have cared if it had been a sewer.

      Turning, Harry and Willow walked slowly from the Great Hall, Harry's arm around Willow's shoulders like a cloak, keeping her from shivering.

      **Author's Notes:** Short chapter, I know!  The next one will be a little longer, and it will come a bit sooner than this one did (probably Friday).

      _Sabia: _I know Brits work in Celsius (see Dumbledore in ch. 5 announcing a high of 17); I was responding to someone from Arizona so I used American measurements.  Don't worry, we aren't _that_ clueless on this side of the Pond—even if it is bloody next to impossible to find a Strongbow here. ;-)

      **Coming Soon: **Ch. 39, "The Chamber of Secrets."  If you can speak Parseltongue and you're looking for some peace and quiet … … …

      **Sneak Preview:**

_      "Would you like to do the honors?" Harry asked.  "This is it."_

_      Willow nodded, and looked right at the eyes of the serpents.  For some reason, the mindset to speak Parseltongue was coming easily to her down here.  "Open up," she hissed. […]_

_      "Well," he said.  "Here we are.  The most private place in Hogwarts."****_


	39. The Chamber of Secrets

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

**      CHAPTER 39:**

**      THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS**

      Harry led Willow quickly away from the tumult in the Great Hall; several of the Gryffindors arose and moved to come with them, but Harry quickly waved them back to their seats.  He gave the Slytherin quintet at the head of the House table a venomous stare back over his shoulder, but Willow never looked back.  She kept her head lowered, trying to bite back tears, trying to melt into Harry's side.

      They moved quickly through the Entrance Hall and up the stairs to the second floor.  Once they were in the stairwell, Harry Summoned his Firebolt, explaining that it would make reaching the Chamber easier.  Fortunately, it did not seem that anyone had followed them; perhaps Dumbledore or McGonagall had kept everyone in their seats, or perhaps the enormity of what had happened was doing that without the need for any explicit order from the Headmaster or the Deputy Headmistress.  They did not see another living creature other than Mrs. Norris en route to the girls' bathroom that held the entrance to Salazar Slytherin's ancient den.

      "Harry!" Moaning Myrtle greeted them.  "Splendid to see you again!"

      "Hello, Myrtle," Harry greeted her, in a rather familiar manner.

      "Ooh, is this your girlfriend?" the translucent girl asked, with a slight hint of a pout.

      "Um, well, yes, actually."

      "Ooh.  I should have known you'd go for someone living," she sniffed.  "Though she does look at least somewhat dead at the moment."

      Willow flinched.  "Myrtle!" Harry chided.

      "Hmph!" Myrtle responded with a flip of her head, and she darted away back into the bowl of her favorite toilet.

      "She's a little sensitive," Harry explained.

      Willow actually managed a weak smile.  "We've met."

      "Oh.  All right.  Well, the entrance is right here," he continued, motioning to one of the sinks.  Willow's eyes narrowed.  It was the same sink she had singled out weeks ago when she had first walked into this bathroom.  As soon as her eyes fell on it again, the wand within her robes began throbbing as it had before, though the feeling in her stomach she remembered was much more faint.

      "All right," she said, drawing a deep breath.

      Harry gazed intently at the faucet, and Willow suddenly saw something she hadn't before: a tiny engraving of a snake on the side of the tap.

      "Open up," he hissed.  The faucet glowed suddenly with a white light, and the sink sank away and out of sight, revealing a dark opening into what looked to be a pipe.

      "It's a bit of a wet slide down," he explained.  "But the pipe's really wide, big enough for a basilisk to get through, so we can fly it."

      "Oh … I see … well, I guess …" Willow managed weakly.  He hadn't told her about this part.  However, she took another look at him, managing a mischievously formal bow and presenting the side of his broom to her like the door of a limousine, she shook her head with a wan smile and worked her way onto the Firebolt.  Harry settled in front of her a moment later.  Willow wrapped her arms around him and nestled her head in the small of his back, just as she had done on the day they had first met when she had ridden behind him chasing the Hogwarts Express.

      "You planned this part, didn't you?" she asked.

      Harry laughed softly.  "I've wanted to do this by myself for a while now.  But it's definitely better this way."

      "You better not drop me."

      Harry turned and smiled at her over his shoulder, giving her a mock-hurt expression a moment later.  "I promise," he said simply.  With that, he eased the broom forward, taking his time, going even more slowly than they had in the cruise from the Quidditch pitch to the Owlery.  He muttered a quick _"Lumos" _just as they entered the darkness.

      The pipe angled steeply downward, and the surface of it was definitely wet.  Willow was more than glad to be riding on a broom; she squirmed at the thought of actually sliding along this pipe.  However, Harry had not been kidding about its width.  Willow had been nervous about flying through dark and narrow spaces, but the pipe was wide enough that, had it been flatter, a truck could have driven through it.

      Down and down they went, and Willow clutched urgently onto Harry's waist.  Then, just as she was about to believe that they had taken a wrong turn and were heading straight for the center of the earth, she felt Harry leveling out the Firebolt's path.  A minute later, he stopped as they emerged into a large stone tunnel.

      "Are we getting off here?" Willow asked.

      "The floor's pretty damp here," Harry answered, nodding downward.  The floor, only two feet below them, was definitely unappealing.  "Like you said.  Needs a woman's touch," he added gently.

      Willow smiled.  "No problem," she said, pulling out her wand.

      "Willow …" he said nervously.  "I'm not going to stop you, but … are you sure you're up to this?  Whatever 'this' is?"

      "I'm fine," she answered.  "Those phoenix tears were … well, amazing.  Wonder what they sell for."

      Harry laughed.  "Trust me, the Diagon Apothecary would have to go into debt for the next century just to stock that vial of Dumbledore's."

      "I believe it," Willow said.  She focused her eyes a moment later, made a sweeping motion with her wand, and chanted, _"Siccitas adesta."_  There was a rush of desert air, and the water on the floor began to shrink and fade away.  A moment later, the floor was as dry as any of the Hogwarts corridors.

      "Wow," Harry said.

      "Drought Curse," Willow explained.  "Um … can we get down now?"

      Harry laughed, and shrugged resignedly.  Willow grinned.  He had clearly been planning on keeping her close to him on the back of the broom a while longer.  However, he did land the broom.

      The memory of the incident in the Great Hall was beginning to fade.  Willow wondered if the phoenix' tears had the power to heal more than just physical hurt, or if it were just the effect of being alone with Harry.  She was tired, but she was feeling much better already, despite the rather dark surroundings.  She had been in much worse during six years on the Hellmouth.

      She moved up behind Harry as he dismounted and encircled his midsection again from behind.  "We could go on like this for a while longer," she whispered softly.  "I know you had your heart set on it."

      Harry laughed, and turned around to give her a tight hug.  "Might make walking a little awkward," he whispered into her ear.  "But don't worry.  There's still the ride back to look forward to."

      Willow laughed as she pulled away.  "Hmm.  My boyfriend has a devious streak."

      "What can I say?  You bring out the best in me," Harry laughed, turning to lead her farther along the corridor.  Willow quickly summoned a light from her own wand as well.  The corridor did not look so forbidding once the dark water had been eliminated; it was still rough, but it was almost like finding a cave on a camping trip now.

      A moment later, they came to what looked to be a rockfall with a small hole burrowed into it.

      "Do we have to squeeze through there?" she asked.

      "The hole's bigger than it looks," Harry answered.  "We could squeeze through without too much trouble.  Or …"

      "Or?" Willow pressed, seeing the mischievous spark in his eyes again, only now tinged with something more.

      Harry took a deep breath, then seemed to think better of it.  "Never mind.  We can do it some other time."

      "What?" Willow pressed.  She was doing everything she could to put the incident in the Great Hall behind her.  Hadn't he gotten that picture yet when she had agreed to come down here in the first place?  The sane thing to do would have been to go back to her room and just wait for the day to end.

      He took another breath.  "Or we could find out what we're really capable of together."

      Willow arched an eyebrow at him.  "Oh, really?"

      He quickly explained what he meant, and she listened, then looked at the rockfall again, then looked back at him and smiled.  She had written him a long time ago about the fact that she and Buffy had never found a good place to practice away from prying eyes … and that she had been afraid to practice her more powerful spells.

      "You're crazy," she said.  Harry shrugged, smiled wistfully, as if to say 'I told you so,' and moved towards the gap in the rock.

      Willow put a hand on his arm.  "But I'm feeling a little crazy, too, right now," she said.  She was alone with a boy she was quickly falling for more and more every day, she had recently had a close brush with death, and the wand in her hand was still pulsing.  She could almost feel it _wanting_ to be used, and something that had been awakening inside her for weeks now wanted to use it, too.

      Harry backed up to stand beside her again.  "You sure?" he asked uncertainly.

      "Sure.  Why not?" she shrugged.  _Seize the moment,_ _because tomorrow you might be dead,_ Buffy's voice floated down to her from their first conversation at the Bronze all those years ago.  "I've always sort of wanted to see what my devious boyfriend can do, too."

      Harry grinned, and he reached out and took her hand, shifting his wand into his left.  "Ready?" he whispered softly.  She could feel the power building in him; his hand burned with it.  She smiled and took a deep breath, basking in the feel of that aura for a moment, feeling him doing the same with the power that was beginning to blossom in her.  Her hair rustled as though disturbed by a faint wind.

      "Ready," she answered, even softer.

      Harry nodded, and held her eyes.  "Three … two …" he didn't even say 'one.'  The thought passed between them like they were thinking with one mind.

      They both turned their heads as one, lifted their wands, and cried _"Reparo!"_

      There was a rumble of stone and earth as power surged outward from their wands in a wave, and a distant part of Willow's mind panicked for a brief instant, thinking she was witnessing a cave-in.  A moment later, however, she steadied herself, and a broad grin spread across her face as she realized that she was indeed witnessing a cave-in … in reverse.  Boulders were rolling away back into the walls, or lifting themselves up to cement themselves to the ceiling.  Smaller fragments of rock that had been shattered were reassembling themselves before returning to their original places in the sides and roof of the tunnel.  A thunderous echo boomed down the tunnel in both directions.

      As the echo faded, the power of the spell did as well, and Harry and Willow both lowered their wands together.  Willow slumped against Harry, but she was smiling, almost purring.

      "Wow," Harry whispered breathlessly.

      "Mm-hmm," Willow answered.  She barely noticed that the feeling in her stomach had faded, as though it had been worked out of her system somehow.  The pulsing sensation in her wand had not abated, however; in fact, it seemed to be almost exultant at finally getting some kind of release.

      A moment later, she caught sight of something further down the passage, just past where the cave-in had been only moments earlier.  She suddenly clutched Harry's arm.  "Uh … what is _that_?" she whispered tensely.

      Harry looked down the corridor, saw what she was looking at, and laughed knowingly.  "It's not alive," he said quickly.  "It's just a skin."

      Willow straightened herself from Harry's embrace and walked forward curiously to get a better look.  It was indeed a skin, a vivid, poisonous green skin of a snake that had to be at least twenty feet long.  "A basilisk skin," she observed wonderingly.  Harry had mentioned that the only thing guarding the chamber had been dead, but he had never mentioned what it was.

      Harry nodded.  "From when it was a lot smaller," he added.  "It was a lot bigger by the time I got here."

      Willow's eyes widened, and she turned to give him another appraising look.  She remembered hearing that he and Ron had killed a basilisk; some of the Slytherins had mentioned it when complaining about the two hundred points Harry and Ron had each received at the end of their second years.  She had never gotten to hear the details, however, since no one seemed to know anything about them.  _So this is where that happened,_ she realized.  _He had to fight that thing down here._

      She reached out to touch the skin.  It was still firm.  She remembered one of her Alchemy texts saying that basilisk skin was almost indestructible.  They were related to dragons and sea serpents.  Looking closer, she was amazed to see some gashes in the skin, as though some pieces had been removed at some point; that should have been nearly impossible.  A chill passed through her body as she touched the side of one of the pieces, and she shivered, though it was not really that cold.  Her wand, back within her robes, beat briefly against her breast like a second heartbeat.  The place on her neck where the cobra had bit her throbbed briefly, and she pulled her hand away, not welcoming the memory.

      They followed the tunnel together for a few more turns, until they finally arrived at a solid stone wall.  Two entwined serpents were carved upon it, with flickering eyes of emerald.

      "Would you like to do the honors?" Harry asked.  "This is it."

      Willow nodded, and looked right at the eyes of the serpents.  For some reason, the mindset to speak Parseltongue was coming easily to her down here.  "Open up," she hissed.  The stone serpents sprang to life and out of the way, and a crack opened in the wall between where they had been moments earlier.  The opening widened as the two halves of the wall slid away.

      Harry breathed a long breath, and for the first time, Willow realized that coming down here again had to have been an interesting experience for him, too, to put it mildly.  "Well," he said.  "Here we are.  The most private place in Hogwarts."

      "Works for me," Willow said, taking his hand comfortingly and drawing him forward.

      They moved forward through a thick archway and into the Chamber.  Willow's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped.  The chamber was enormous, larger than any throne room of any Muggle king that had ever lived.  The water that had been on the floor outside was nowhere to be found here, despite the fact that this chamber would have been well out of range of Willow's spell.  The ceiling was lost in the darkness above, supported by massive stone pillars carved in the likeness of great serpents, with deep, hollow eye sockets designed to seem as though there were looking at one no matter where one stood in the chamber.

      "Goddess," Willow breathed.

      "Amazing, isn't it?" Harry said.  "Only five people in the history of Hogwarts have been here—Salazar Slytherin, Tom Riddle, Ginny Weasley, me, and now you."

      "I can't believe someone would build a place like this and then not have anyone else here."

      Harry nodded.  "I've always wondered why he felt he needed such a decorative place just to hide a basilisk.  Actually, way back when we were first forming Dumbledore's Army, I thought about this place, but it would have been too hard to get a whole bunch of people here."

      Willow nodded, remembering the pipe down.  Everyone would have had to have flown, and a whole bunch of people walking around Hogwarts with their brooms with no apparent reason would have attracted attention.

      "Still …" she whispered, with a light smile, "for just us …"

      "Has potential, don't you think?  Maybe just a few curtains?"

      Willow laughed, and gave him a playful shove, fully aware that their light attitude was completely out of sync with the mood the chamber was clearly built to inspire, but not caring.

      "Hmm, maybe," she joked.  "Hard to tell.  Let's get a better look."  She raised her wand aloft like a torch.  _"Lumos lunas leviosa!"_ she chanted.  A small ball of light burst from her wand, soaring up into the darkness above and slightly ahead of them like a small flare.  When it reached its zenith, it suddenly blossomed into a brilliant silver light like a full moon, bathing the chamber in a soft silver radiance and driving back the greenish gloom that had seemed to permeate the air.

      "Nice," Harry complimented her.

      "Thanks," Willow said, sending a few more Moonlamps in the chamber to cancel out some of the glaring shadows behind pillars that the first had produced.  Then, a moment later, her eyes settled on something at the far end of the chamber.  It looked vaguely like the skin she had seen back in the tunnel … at least, in the way that a static spark looks like a lightning bolt.

      "Oh … Goddess …" she whispered.

      Harry saw what she was looking at; it was hard to miss.  "Yeah, that was the real one," he said.  Even at this distance, Willow was awed by its size; it had to be at least a hundred feet long, and as thick as an ancient oak.

      "Wow," Willow whispered as she crossed the room towards it.  It was lying like a sacrifice some way in front of a giant statue of what had to be Salazar Slytherin himself.  The eyes of the serpent statues seemed to follow her as she moved, but her attention was locked on the great dead serpent in front of her.  Harry brought up the rear, looking around them to take a better look at the chamber; he had seen the basilisk before, but had never really gotten a good look at the surroundings.  He had had other matters on his mind the last time he came through here, Willow guessed.

      She reached the dead basilisk and quickly reached out to feel the skin.  It was as hard as it had been when the creature was alive; in fact, it had not even begun to decompose, save for the shriveled, punctured eyes.  Other than that, she could barely tell that it was dead.  There was no smell of decay.

      On an impulse, she checked the serpent's jaws.  The venom in the fangs had long since dried, but the fangs themselves were polished swords, hard and sharp as ever.  Her wand began to pulse again as she came within view of the fangs.  One was missing, right next to a vicious gash in the roof of the serpent's mouth that had to have been where Godric's sword had pierced it.

      Suddenly, on a closer look, she realized that she had been mistaken.  There was not one fang missing.  There were two.  At the back of its jaw, where its smallest fangs would have been, barely noticeable unless one was actively looking for it, there was another empty socket.  She reached a hand toward it just to be sure, and could feel the wand in her hand throb furiously as she did so.  She took another look at the wand.

      _Thirteen and a half inches.  Yew.  Basilisk's fang core._

      The missing fang would have been just under a foot long.  _So that's where you came from,_ she mused.

      "WILLOW!" Harry's startled and alarmed voice jerked her out of her reverie, and she snatched her hand back so quickly that she cut her hand on one of the fangs near where the missing one had been.  She grated a quick healing charm as she bolted around the basilisk's head to where Harry's voice had been coming from.

      Harry was standing behind the basilisk, in the short space in between the dead serpent and the feet of the statue of Salazar Slytherin.  There was something lying on the floor there, hidden from the view of the entrance behind the great serpent's corpse.  Not something, Willow corrected herself instantly.  Someone.

      _"DRACO?!"_ Willow practically shrieked.

      The Malfoy heir was bound to the floor by manacles of what looked to be pure shadow.  He was moving his mouth to speak, but had clearly been Silenced.

      _"Finite Incantatem!"_ Willow shouted, snapping her will like a whip.  The cords of shadow evaporated, and the Silencing Charm dissipated with a telltale snap.

      "Look out!" Draco cried immediately.

      Willow suddenly became aware of another force in the chamber, and felt power being drawn nearby.  Without warning, she was picked up and catapulted forward by an unseen force, tumbling headlong into Draco.  She landed atop him before she could stop herself, and her knee flew into the prostrate boy's head.  There was a thud as Draco's head was knocked back against the floor, and his body went limp.

      _"Impedimenta!"_ she heard Harry shout behind her as she rose to her feet.  There was the riving sound of two spells striking each other, and then she was on her feet, wheeling around and weaving a shield around herself as she did so.

      She was confronted by a silhouette of shadow that had detached itself from the wall of the chamber and was bearing down on them.  It was small, well shorter than herself, and humanoid, though if it were actually human, she couldn't tell.  It was like a shadow wrapped in shadow; a massive smoky penumbra surrounded it like a massive cloak, making it seem taller than it was.  It had to have just arrived somehow, probably having set a ward on the spells around Draco to know if they were broken.

      _Its spells._  Something jumped into Willow's mind.  It had not spoken when casting the spell against her, nor when turning aside Harry's Impedimentus blast … and it was cloaked in an aura that she sensed would make it nearly impossible to detect.

      "Harry," she grated icily, "this is the guy who attacked Lupin."

      **Author's Notes:**  Cliffhanger! :-D  But hey, those of you who were wondering what was up with Draco finally get a break!

      In case you were wondering, things get a _lot_ more active from here; the next few chapters are probably going to be pretty much nonstop violence.  Hope no one has a tremendous problem with that. ;-)  We'll see if my battle scenes measure up to the discriminating taste of HP/BtVS readers.  At the very least, I hope I'll start to be able to justify the "Action" label I gave the fic way back when.

**      Coming Soon:**  Chapter 40 (Whew!  Has it really been that many?), "Of Politics and War."  Harry and Willow duel Lupin's attacker (currently serving as Draco's prison warden).

**      Sneak Preview:**

_      With a sinking feeling, Willow realized that she had not felt any impact upon her shield.  The bolt had never been aimed at her._

_      "Look out!" she screamed, but she was too late.___


	40. Of Politics and War

**      DISCLAIMER:**  The characters aren't mine.  I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

**      SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:**  Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

      Reviews always welcome!

**      CHAPTER 40:**

**      OF POLITICS AND WAR**

      From a distance, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry looked as placid as ever, an expansive, magnificent castle rising high above a serene lake and rolling green grounds.  Within, the atmosphere was little more lively, as the student body's excitement about the impending visit to Hogsmeade was mellowed by the imminence of summer finals on beginning on Monday.  The dungeons were silent, save for a few house-elves working on preparations for the looming war.

      Deep below the foundations of the castle, however, beyond even the most potent mystical eyes and ears, war already raged.

      _"Protego!"_ Willow snapped as a bolt of some kind of energy flew at her; the bolt flew back at its shadowy sender, who turned and swirled aside as though it weighed nothing more than a shadow.

      _"Stupe …"_ Harry began a stunning spell, then suddenly seized his broom and leapt into the air, just as the stone underneath him shattered into gravel.

      _"Petrokinesia!"_ Willow snapped, aiming at the shattered bits of rock; they rose from the ground and flew at their assailant as though flung by a catapult.  The silhouette vanished in a wisp of smoke, only to reappear floating in the air above them.

      _"Stupefy!"_ Harry called, wheeling towards it on his Firebolt.  Red bolts streamed forth from the Gryffindor prefect's wand.

      The figure raised one hand, turning the bolt partly to one side while drifting in the other.  A moment later, it send a jet of electric blue light like a small comet at Harry.  In the air, however, Harry was extremely hard to hit, and he spun aside, weaving in and out of the pillars, daring the figure to try following him.

      _"Luminaris solaire!"_ Willow cried, raising her wand aloft like a torch.  Golden-white sunlight blazed forth from the wand, and she thought she heard the figure give a high-pitched yelp as the sunlight met with the figure's cloak of shadows.  When the light cleared, however, it was nowhere to be seen.

      Suddenly, she felt cords of some kind of power wrap around her chest from behind, and felt her arms pulled in to her sides by the same shadowy cords that had bound Draco to the floor.  Her wand tumbled from her grip.

      _"Finite Incantatem!" _she heard Harry shout, a note of sudden fright in his voice.  The cords snapped, but her assailant had not rested, and she felt a burst of power impact her in the back, and she sprawled headlong across the floor; had her hands still been bound, she would have been knocked unconscious.  She rolled to her knees to see Harry diving from the sky, raining Stunning spells and Impedimentus curses.  Her attacker responded with bolts of light and shadow.

      At the last moment, Harry spun aside and sharply downward, and just as she thought he had lost control and was about to crash, he twisted in midair less than two feet from the floor and swept her wand back to her with one hand.

      She caught it, and reflexively cried _"Protego!"_ knowing that their assailant could not have missed that.  Sure enough, a bolt of shadow was already heading in her direction; the blast turned aside.

      With a sinking feeling, Willow realized that she had not felt any impact upon her shield.  The bolt had never been aimed at her.

      "Look out!" she screamed, but she was too late.

      _"Petrific … aaah!" _Harry cried as the blast came upon him from behind like a homing missile.  He tumbled forward and spun in a three-quarter somersault before crashing into the statue of Salazar Slytherin; his broom flew away into the darkness, and he fell.

      _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ Willow called desperately, striking him only a heartbeat before he would have struck the floor.  He floated down the last few feet.

      Willow felt the cords suddenly wrapping around her body again, but she had been expecting that; levitating Harry had distracted her.  She kept her grip on her wand this time.

      _"Finite Incantatem!"_ she snapped, and the cords dissipated.

      Suddenly, before she could react, she felt more cords spiraling around her legs like a bola; her assailant had sent two bunches of cords at her, one right behind the other, and the second one had been hidden behind the first.  Without the need to chant, it was impossible to tell when he was casting two spells at once, especially when they were identical.

      With a cry of alarm, she felt her feet jerked from under her, and threw out her hands to break her fall.  Her wand tumbled from her grasp.  A moment later, she felt more cords winding around her torso, and her mouth constricting as shadows like folds of dark cloth stuffed themselves into it.

      Panic took over.  There would be no help here.  No one else in Hogwarts, not even Dumbledore, could find this place.

      _NO!_ she screamed into the silence of her mind, embracing the power within her once again without a wand.  Power flowed through her veins; this was the lair of Salazar Slytherin, and the air here was laced with dark eldritch energy.  Drawing it into herself was almost effortless.

      With a feral scream, she shattered the bindings around her and sprang to her feet as though bouncing up from a trampoline.  The air around her crackled.  A cold, dry breeze gathered out of nowhere and whirled around her, ruffling her hair and robes.

      _You want to cast spells without chanting?  I can play that game._  With a dark, primal cry, she raised her hands to the ceiling as if in supplication.  _Can you do this?!_ she spat a contemptuous thought at her assailant as the eyes of all the great, serpentine pillars began to burn with a dangerous greenish-yellow light.  A ray of power burst from the nearest one like a shooting star, then another from one farther down the chamber, then a hailstorm of green bursts began raining down upon her assailant, who ducked and flickered around the room to avoid them, but they followed him wherever he went.

      She suddenly realized that it had appeared behind her, in an attempt to lure one of the serpent-eyes into shooting her.  She grinned wickedly, focused her will, and her form became transparent and ghostly.  The nearest serpents fired straight through her, and the thing was forced to call up a shield of earth from the floor to block them, which immediately began to crumble under the barrage.

      Remembering that it had seemed vulnerable to light attacks, she clenched her hands at her sides, threw her head back, and gave a great cry to the ceiling that echoed in the lofty chamber.  The Moonlamps suddenly brightened, and their color deepened to a rich vermeil, fueled by her rage.  It was as if a quintet of dark suns had suddenly blazed into being in the air above.  She heard the shadowy figure behind the wall of earth give another high-pitched yelp, and it quickly turned its power on the lamps, knocking them from the sky with bolts of darkness; they were vulnerable once Willow's will was no longer bent on sustaining them.

      Willow raised her palms, fingers bent upward as though clutching a ball, and ten loose, bright orbs of fire materialized above her upturned digits.  A brief memory of Jonathan and Andrew, the last people she had sent one of these after, flashed into her mind, but she batted it aside.

      "Dodge this," she spat, and loosed the torrent of fireballs just as the last of the earth wall crumbled.  She sent them out in both directions so they would home in on their target from both sides.

      The silhouette twisted aside and vanished, but the mystical arrows seemed to know where he was going before he even materialized.  Suddenly, however, Willow saw where he was materializing, and her dark eyes widened.  Draco Malfoy had regained consciousness and had managed to rise raggedly to his knees.  Willow noted that, for some reason, he had taken off his shirt, but then a shock of alarm ran through her.  Their shadowy assailant appeared right behind him.

      _Damn!_ she seethed, and loosed a barrage of ice bolts from her outstretched hands, each destroying one of the incoming fireballs with a steaming hiss.  With another wave of her hand a moment later, she cut off the torrent of beams from the eyes of the serpents.

      Suddenly, Draco forced himself upright, wincing in pain and stumbling as he did so; Willow could see an ugly lump on his forehead.  His moves were steady and quick, however.  He suddenly turned and thrust his shirt into the chest of the shadowy creature.

      Another salvo of fireballs appeared above Willow's fingers, and she waited for the assailant to move and give her any kind of opening.  But he wasn't moving.  Neither of them were moving.  Draco and the short figure within the shadows seemed to almost be having a staring contest.  Willow began to move sideways slowly, both to take cover behind a nearby pillar and to get a better angle en route.  The faint crackle of her ready fireballs and the light step of her feet were the only sounds in the chamber.

      Suddenly, the shadowy figure backed away from Draco, and Willow tensed, but Draco suddenly threw out a hand behind him in her direction.  "Wait!" he cried.  He did not take his eyes off the figure, which was now holding the Slytherin prefect's shirt like it was some kind of sacred object.

      "Master?" it said.  Willow's eyes widened.  _Master?!_

      "Not anymore, Deggle," Draco said wearily.  "You're free."

      The shadowy penumbra suddenly melted away, and the silhouette began to shrink and become more solid, until standing on the floor of the chamber, facing the ruler of the Slytherin roost, was a short, innocuous-looking figure with purple skin and enormous ears.

      Willow's eyes widened.  _A house-elf?!_

"Master Draco freed Deggle!" the elf suddenly cried, prancing around as though drunk, waving Draco's shirt like a banner.  Willow dispelled the fireballs and emerged from behind the pillar.

      "I'm sure there's a story here," Willow prompted him.

      He nodded, but slumped back to his knees, barely catching himself from falling completely prone.  "Draco!" Willow cried, remembering how hurt he had to been, not to mention what he had to have been through.  She quickly covered the floor between them, summoning her wand back into her hand with a glance en route, and ran a finger over the bump on his forehead; it smoothed over and faded, though he flinched, and she could not heal it all the way.  The magic she was drawing from the Chamber was dark, and not really conducive to healing.  Actually, considering how the cure probably burned, he was taking it surprisingly well.

      "Oh, Goddess, Harry!" she suddenly exclaimed, just as Draco looked about to speak.  She darted over to where her fallen boyfriend lay, and was relieved to see that he was only thoroughly bruised and dazed; she ran a Diagnostic Charm on him just to be sure, but her first impression was right.  Nothing was broken.  Considering half of what she had heard of his adventures, he had to be more resistant to bumps and bruises than his slight body looked.

      She did what she could for him, and Draco came up alongside her, Deggle trailing behind them as though not sure if he could really leave.

      Harry raised himself into a sitting position and put a hand to his head.  "Ouch," he muttered.

      "I'm sure there's a story here," Draco remarked knowingly.  Willow flushed.

      "You've missed a few things," she said.

      "I see that.  Can't say I ever expected to be glad to see you, Potter.  How did you find me?"

      "Pure luck," Willow answered.  "We were just coming here for some privacy.  Pansy was being a bitca."

      Draco laughed.  "I owe her my life, then, I guess, but not as much as I owe you."

      Harry cut in.  "Listen, hate to interrupt, but are there more of them?"

      "What?  Oh, no.  There was only one talisman."

      "Talisman?"

      "Deggle, show … I mean, could you show them … uh, please?" Draco turned and asked the elf.

      "Yes, ma … I mean, sir," the elf answered.  He vanished and reappeared a moment later, holding a small jade talisman in the form of a snake.  He tapped the head of the snake, and its mouth moved.  "Open up," it hissed.

      Harry's eyes widened.  "So that's how they got you here."

      Draco nodded.  "Father put Mother under Imperius and had her write a letter to me.  He and Deggle and Bellatrix ambushed me at Hogsmeade Station.  Had Polyjuice Potion ready, just took a piece of my hair and, whoosh, Father became me."

      Willow's mind lurched.  "Waitaminit … Hogsmeade Station?  Draco, you've been gone for weeks!  Have you been down here the whole time?!"

      Draco nodded.  "Deggle brought me food from the kitchens.  Occasionally my father would sneak in and tell me things, just to gloat …"

      "Never mind!" Willow shouted, alarm and anger building in her voice.  "Buffy!"

      Draco nodded, and bowed his head.  "Dad told me.  Voldemort's at the manor, he has her prisoner there.  Apparently he's really obsessed with both of you."

      Willow's eyes suddenly burned darkly.  "Voldemort …"

      "I have no idea what they've been doing to her, but whatever it is, Father seems much too happy about it," Draco concluded darkly.

      "Right," Willow said tightly.  She could feel the darkness building within her again, amplified by the air of this place and the fact that she had let it loose to fight Deggle.  It burned in her veins.  However, at the moment, she was suddenly long past caring.

      "Voldemort …" The word escaped her lips like a curse.

      "Willow …" Harry managed weakly.

      She turned to look at him, and he recoiled, seeing her eyes.  She turned to Draco, and had the same effect.  "Get him out of here," she said, an uncustomary note of command in her voice.

      "Wait!" Draco called after her.  "Where are you going?"

      She turned briefly back over her shoulder.  "I just want to take a little tour," she said, her voice suddenly soft, powerful, and dark, like the atmosphere of the chamber itself were speaking.  Suddenly, she turned, and there was a burst of smoke and lightning as her form dissolved, and the dark wind that was Willow Rosenberg roared away down the tunnel.

      Draco Malfoy stood, transfixed, watching the little slip of an American girl that had never once tried to move up the Slytherin table.  The most impressive thing he had ever seen her do was levitate the falling Gryffindor girl in the great stairwell.  That was advanced, but many of Voldemort's Death Eaters could have done it.  He looked up at the eyes of the serpents that had been raining energy down on the dueling elf, the lone blazing Sunlamp still hanging at the far end of the chamber, the torrents of ice and fire that she had let loose without a wand, barely breaking a sweat.  He was starting to understand what Voldemort saw in her.

      He turned to his old arch-nemesis, still crouching on the stones.  Potter had been hurt a lot worse than him; Draco remembered vividly flying into the wooden supports of the Quidditch field, he could only imagine what it would feel like to fly into a wall of solid rock at battle speed.

      "All right, Potter, truce," he said, leaning down to recover the fallen boy's wand and Firebolt.  "Let's get you out of here."

      "I'm fine," Harry rasped.

      "I know."

      "Then leave me alone."

      "Really?  Can you Apparate like that?  Or whatever that was?"

      Harry winced.  "Not exactly."

      "Then the only way to get out of here is through that pipe, and you're in no shape to fly."

      "And you never were."

      "Come off it, you great git, I've beaten every other Seeker but you."

      Harry looked about to retort, but something somehow stopped him, for which Draco was eternally grateful; he didn't want to get into an argument now, but old habits die hard, especially when one was thinking about something else.

      "Fine.  You better not drop me."

      "Drop you?"  Draco suddenly realized what Harry must have thought he was implying.  "No, I'll fly your broom.  Deggle can levitate you up the pipe."  A moment later, he remembered again that Deggle no longer had to obey orders.  "Um … is that all right, Deggle?"

      "Oh, yes, yes," Deggle agreed enthusiastically.

      "Right," Potter noted, a little uncomfortable with the arrangement.

      Draco grinned.  "Come on, Potter, I can't leave you behind, you and Deggle are the only ones who can open the door."

      "Right."

      "Plus," Draco continued, "you don't know where the manor is.  Which means you'll need me if you plan on getting there."

      Harry suddenly looked up.

      Draco grinned grimly.  "You weren't really planning on staying behind, were you?  Or did you have something more important to do?"

      **Author's Notes:**  Dark Willow is back in action, and is a little … miffed.  [Cue music: Europe, "The Final Countdown …"]

**      Coming Soon:**  "The First Gusts of the Storm."  Voldemort's plans, despite being laid bare prematurely, are nearing fruition.  Willow heads for Malfoy Manor; Harry and Draco—perhaps not friends but united by a common purpose for the moment—are not far behind.

**      Sneak Preview:**

****

_      "What was that?" Elaina asked breathlessly._

_      Vincent grinned.  "I thought I said.  Willow mad."****_


	41. The First Gusts of the Storm

** DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

** SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

** CHAPTER 41:**

** THE FIRST GUSTS OF THE STORM**

Vincent Byron was sitting in the Slytherin common room, enjoying a game of wizard's chess with Elaina Delacroix, the seventh-year prefect and current head of the table. Chess was a great game, but the real game was in the fact that they were playing together. Elaina recognized Vincent as the most advanced of the incoming class and the most influential among the first-years. Her playing with him increased his status in the eyes of his classmates, and sent the message that he was forging powerful alliances as well as being powerful in his own right. Elaina herself was sacrificing some temporary status by playing with a first-year, but for the sake of establishing an alliance that all the observant players knew would grow in power if Vincent at all lived up to his potential.

"Check," Elaina announced.

Vincent sighed. He could take her last bishop with his last knight, and then she could take his knight. Neither one of them would have enough pieces left to win. She was playing for a draw.

"Boring," he shrugged, and played into the tie.

"I've had enough excitement for one night," she answered wearily. Vincent believed her; Elaina was not normally known for being risk-averse, despite the fact that she had been the one prefect besides the absent Malfoy not in on the attack on Willow.

"You should be happy about it," Vincent observed. "I think your playmates might have made Willow mad."

"Mayb … gyaah!" Elaina's measured response was cut off as the door from the corridor outside swung open and a fierce wind blew in. Vincent, Elaina, and the other Slytherins in the room had their wands in their hands in a flash. Dark, fingerlike trails like black cirrus clouds had reached out past the door to pull an elongated, windswept stormcloud through. The cloud swept through the room like a gale, throwing papers, books, and the chessboard to the floor. It sped through the arch at the far end and up the stairs into the heart of Slytherin Tower.

"What was that?" Elaina asked breathlessly.

Vincent grinned. "I thought I said. Willow mad."

Torrence Appleby was in the infirmary visiting her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, whom she'd grown rather fond of before he was attacked. She hated seeing him restrained the way he was; it was going to be the night just after the full moon, so even though he had lain in torpor for the past two nights after his change, Madame Pomfrey was taking all precautions. The nurse kept saying he was healthy, they just didn't know if he was going to wake up, which made no sense to her; she hoped she'd understand more when she was older.

Suddenly, a small mist appeared next to her and a house-elf materialized.

"Is you a nurse, Miss?" he asked her.

"Um, no, but I'm here a lot …" Torrence answered nervously.

"I is needing medicine for head-hitting and bumping and oozy-woozyness," it told her.

"Concussion," she summed up for him. She walked over to a cabinet where Madame Pomfrey kept her mid-level remedies, and withdrew a light blue tincture. "Here," she said.

"Thank you," the elf said, quickly grabbing the medicine and vanishing again, casting an odd, almost remorseful, glance in Lupin's direction as he did.

"Don't mention it," Torrence said with a shrug. A moment later, however, a motion out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and drove all thoughts of the elf needing a concussion remedy from her mind.

"Madame Pomfrey! Madame Pomfrey!" she cried. "He's awake!"

Professor Severus Snape was in his office, grumbling as he looked up and down the row of sleeping potions turned in for the final quiz of the summer term from his first-year Potions class. It was good to see children wanting to get ahead, but it was always discouraging to see how far they needed to get to do that.

Suddenly, there was an insistent knock on the door of his office. He checked the clock on the wall. "Office hours are over!" he called.

The door opened, and Snape suddenly jumped to his feet.

"Good to see you again, too, Severus," Draco Malfoy greeted him. Snape bristled; Malfoy had never used his first name before, but the young man's eyes were glittering like silver ice, his shirt was somehow missing, he was carrying Harry Potter's Firebolt, and he was somehow _here,_ when he was supposed to be up at his manor getting ready for his inauguration, so he guessed that there were more important stories to be told.

"This is rather unexpected," Snape observed coldly.

"I'm full of surprises," Draco answered, matching Snape's coldness. "But not for you, tonight. I gave you a duplicate of my wand a long time ago. I was hoping you still had it."

"Of course," Snape answered, quickly shifting aside a portrait of a green dragon on the wall, which gave an annoyed snort at being moved. A small, silver vault door came into view, and Snape pressed his hand against it.

"It's me," he said, and the door opened. Snape reached in, rummaged inside for a moment, and withdrew Draco's spare wand. He had never understood why the boy had wanted him to take care of it, but apparently he needed it now. Snape had always been above average at reading the threads of the Great Game, but the Malfoys were masters.

"Thank you," Draco said as the Potions instructor handed the wand to him. He took the wand and strode for the exit. Snape shrugged and began to examine the potions in front of him again. Then Draco paused at the door.

"Yes?" Snape asked.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Rosenberg is going to fight You-Know-Who at my house, where he's held Buffy prisoner for the last two months and my father's been disguised as me with Polyjuice Potion."

"_What?!_" Snape roared, leaping to his feet. But the Malfoy heir was already gone, and by the light draft in the corridor when Snape reached it, he had to have flown away on Potter's Firebolt.

"Three points from Slytherin for flying in the halls," he growled.

Harry sprinted through the halls of Hogwarts, ignoring the concerned looks he was getting from some of the other students he passed. He had not gotten far when Deggle appeared alongside him, bearing a vial of medicine from the infirmary, which he took greedily. He was able to make much better time after that. He had almost reached the Headmaster's office when a whooshing sound echoed through the corridor behind him, approaching rapidly. Draco came into view, riding his Firebolt, alighting a few paces away.

"Wand?" Harry asked.

"Wand." Draco handed the Firebolt back to Harry, which actually surprised him; then again, Draco had been right when he had said that Harry could not find the way to Malfoy Manor without him.

"Good," Harry answered brusquely, and continued on to the Headmaster's office. Malfoy was right alongside him. Fortunately, no one passed them; Harry had no idea how he was going to explain this. Of course, anyone who had seen a shirtless Draco Malfoy flying through the halls of Hogwarts on Harry's broomstick was going to be talking now, and probably following as quickly as they could.

They reached the gargoyle that concealed the entrance. There was a note at the base. Harry picked it up. Could Dumbledore possibly already know?

_The force behind the most powerful countercurse_, Harry read.

"What's that?" Draco asked. Harry passed him the note.

"The force behind the …" Draco read. "What's this?"

"Love," Harry answered softly. The gargoyle rumbled into motion, revealing the stairs to Dumbledore's office.

He caught Draco mouthing "Love?" silently out of the corner of his eye as he strode quickly up the stairs.

Dumbledore was seated at his desk. There were notebooks on his desk that looked to be the same alchemical notebooks that he had been reading the last time Harry had seen him, but the wizened wizard appeared to be taking a break. He was playing a game of Go with Fawkes; it was hard to tell who was winning.

"Professor!" Harry called urgently.

Dumbledore turned calmly to look at them. "This day has been interesting," he noted, with a kind nod towards the two of them.

"And it's not even eight," Draco grated.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet. He turned to Fawkes. "Draw?" The phoenix gave a musical, assenting chirp.

"Do you know?" Harry asked quickly.

"I can guess, considering that I just felt the most powerful presence this castle has ever seen emerge in the second-floor girls' bathroom and sweep towards the tower."

"I was down in the Chamber," Draco confirmed.

"So I see," Dumbledore said. "And speaking of things I see," he continued, and he reached down behind his desk and pulled out a small cloth tunic. He Transfigured it quickly to Draco's size and tossed it to him, and the Slytherin prefect donned it gratefully.

"Oh, yes, and one more thing," Dumbledore noted. "This arrived in the mail for you a few days ago, young Mr. Malfoy," he said, withdrawing a long, thin parcel from a nook in the wall. Draco's eyes widened as he unwrapped it.

"My Skyfire," he breathed.

"For some reason, this came here when all the rest of your mail was redirected to your manor. If I didn't know better, I'd say that whoever impersonated you had no idea that this was coming."

"No one did," Draco shrugged. "Well, just Buffy." Harry turned an appraising look on the Slytherin prefect. There had definitely been something in the way he said her name. Willow had told him that Buffy had begun to fall for Draco. She had never been entirely sure of whether or not the feeling was mutual.

"Now, as a favor to an old man, I would appreciate it if you did not trouble my mind with any more worries tonight," he said wearily.

"Dumbledore, you have to do something to stop her," Harry said. "She's like … well, she's …"

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted gently, "I of course could have no idea of what Willow might be doing, but if—purely as a matter of conjecture—for any reason, Willow might be about to do something foolish, I think it would certainly not be me that would have the best chance of stopping her."

"Dumbledore, are you …" Draco began, but Harry cut him off. A moment later, realization dawned in Draco's eyes, and he turned an appraising look at the Headmaster.

"Of course," Draco said. "We would hate to burden you."

"Oh yes, Harry," Dumbledore said as they turned to leave. "I have no idea where you might be going, but if you happen to see Miss Summers, I have a package for you to give to her, too."

Dumbledore was silent for a minute after Harry and Draco had left his office. Eventually, Fawkes gave an inquiring note and cocked his head at the ancient man, leaning forward to make it clear that he wanted an answer.

"I could fight her, I suppose," he mused. "I might even win. But then she might decide she'd rather work for someone else, and then where would I find another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Dear me, but we do seem to go through so many …"

Fawkes gave another pointed chirp.

"Reason with her? My dear Fawkes, we do need to get you a mate."

The phoenix gave a decidedly irritated squawk.

Dumbledore laughed lightly.

Fawkes decided to change the subject, and gave a soft chirp, almost a purr. Then he gave another questioning chirp, somewhat lighter than the last, though no less serious.

Dumbledore smiled. That question was much easier to answer. "Oh, that? No, no Slytherin has ever been able to use it," he admitted as a breathless Torrence Appleby burst into the room, "but Buffy will. I have no doubt about that."

The top of Slytherin Tower pulsed with light and white noise from Willow's preparations for war. Three cauldrons were boiling with potions, and the redheaded wiccan was weaving defensive spells into her body and clothing and enchanting some of her and Buffy's personal effects gathered from their room.

She was just levitating the last of her Giant Strength potion into a row of vials when she heard footsteps approaching on the stairs. Her heightened senses detected the smell of greasy hair.

"I thought you might show up," she grated, not turning around.

"Miss Rosenberg, I'd certainly like to know what you're doing," Snape grated.

She turned to face him. "I'd certainly like to know if you think you can stop me," she answered coldly.

Emotions warred on Snape's countenance. Eventually, his shoulders sagged, a resigned expression spread across his face, and he backed up a step.

"Oh, but I did want to thank you for coming," she suddenly said coldly. "You see, I wasn't quite sure how to get there. _Legilimens,_" she chanted, with a contemptuous flick of her wand. Snape let out a surprised croak before falling to the ground, clutching his head weakly.

Moments later, Willow was ready to leave. She turned to look at her smooth, trusty Cloud Nine that she had never even used before. Nonetheless, she was not interested in a smooth ride at the moment. She wanted speed. She waved her wand over the broom, focused her mind back on their first day at Quality Quidditch Supplies, and chanted, _"Ad paragonum emendo." _The broom blurred. In its place was the prototype that Willow had seen in the window of the Diagon Alley shop.

"Up," she commanded, and the Skyfire leapt into her hands as lightly as the Nimbus 2001 had for Buffy.

She sat astride her broom, ensuring that the wards she had placed to prevent all the artillery she was carrying within her robes from breaking were stable, and turned to face the southern sky.

"VOLDEMORT!" she shrieked into the wind, which whipped into a howling gale at the force of her unleashed fury. Instantly, she was airborne, streaming southward, dark clouds massing around and behind her as she gathered speed. The north wind fed off her wrath and sent the clouds in her wake like vast wings, but she outran them, streaking across the sky like a falling star.

"Put it away, Bella," Voldemort commanded softly. Bellatrix quickly stashed the crystal ball back underneath its cover.

"Give me your arm," he said. Bellatrix immediately held out her arm to him. Voldemort's long fingers trembled with excitement as he rolled up the dark-haired woman's sleeve and pressed his fingers to the Dark Mark on her forearm. He wasn't sure which feeling thrilled in him more: the feeling of his wand truly awakening after so many years of dormancy, or the reawakening of the power in that little slip of a girl from California whom Dumbledore had managed to spirit away to Hogwarts almost right from under his nose. The old fool had kept the girl from his grasp for a time, but even he could only stall the inevitable. The excitement of both of those was such that he barely remembered the anger and frustration he felt at having his plans exposed before they were ripe.

He turned, enjoying the view from the balcony of Malfoy Manor, searching the northern horizon eagerly for the first sign of his prizes. Hogwarts was only twenty minutes away at the speed young Willow was traveling. "And so it begins," he whispered.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Sorry it's been so long since I last updated! Especially for those of you who were actually regular readers of my modest little diversion from real life, I should have been better. The first few weeks of school were … hectic … is the only lame excuse I can make.

** Coming Soon:** (And hopefully sooner than last time, though my once-a-week summer schedule might be hard to keep up.) Chapter 42, "Storming the Manor." Willow, Harry, and Draco converge on Malfoy Manor, with a cadre of Death Eaters manning the outer defenses and Voldemort and his lieutenants waiting within.

** Sneak Preview:**

_ Draco turned back and took another long look at the manor in the distance. "We're off our bloody rockers, you know that?"_

_ "It had occurred to me," Harry admitted._


	42. Storming the Manor

** DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

** SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

** CHAPTER 42:**

** STORMING THE MANOR**

_In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness._

_ Or hang uselessly in midair in the middle of a cell underneath her teenage crush's palace,_ Buffy grimaced wryly.

The dementors were beginning to have an effect on her again. She was doing a lot better fighting them than she had the first time around, but she could feel them, gradually, insistently working their way back into her mind again. Their effects multiplied the more of them there were, and Voldemort had brought in more after Lucius' little indiscretion.

The loss of her sight had sharpened her other senses. She was able to feel a change in the air and hear the faint rustle of robes as someone entered. The hackles on the back of her neck raised; her sixth sense told her who it was before he spoke or did anything else to identify himself.

"I'm surprised he let you down here again so soon," she said. "It's been … what … five days now?" She had begun to lose track of time again, but she still had a general idea.

"Four," Lucius corrected tightly. "Out," he said. Buffy's eyes widened behind the blindfold. The dementors were filing out.

"What do you want?" she demanded coldly. Her voice was as smooth and cold as a glacier.

She heard the quick step of boots on stone as Lucius approached. Her mind raced. He was moving far more quickly than he usually did. Something was bothering him.

Suddenly, before she could react, she felt the lip of a vial or bottle of some kind pressed against her lips, and a cold liquid was being poured down her throat; she swallowed reflexively before she even had a chance to spit it out. Her mind quickly began to go numb and dark.

.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy streaked through the halls of Hogwarts side by side on their brooms, the irony of which was not lost on either of them, or on any of the people they passed. They reached the great stairwell and flashed skyward. Harry pulled out his wand as they neared the skylight at the very apex.

_"Alohamora!"_ he shouted. The skylight opened and he and Draco sailed through. The stormfront that signaled Willow's passing was already many miles south of them.

_"Binoculate,"_ Draco chanted, casting his gaze southward.

Harry was not in the mood for reconnaissance. He turned his Firebolt southward and began flying as fast as he could after Willow. A moment later, he turned his head back over his shoulder, wondering why Draco wasn't catching up on his faster broom, and saw that Draco had immediately veered to the west and was flying out over the lake.

_What the heck is he doing?_ Harry wondered. Willow had only been in the air for a minute, but she already had a large lead on them and was moving incredibly fast for someone supposedly riding a Cloud Nine. He muttered a curse and swung back.

_"Sonorous,"_ he chanted. "What are you doing?!" he shouted to the Slytherin prefect, his voice echoing across the still surface of the lake.

He waited while Draco mimicked the Herald's Voice. A moment later, the Slytherin prefect turned around and called, "Hogsmeade!"

"Hogsmeade?!" Harry called back. "Didn't your father say he'd closed the Floo network to your house?" Not that he trusted the word of Lucius Malfoy as relayed through his son, but Willow would almost certainly have taken the Floo had it been an option.

"He did," Draco answered. "But we aren't taking the Floo."

Their brooms were moving so quickly that they had already reached the village by time Draco had finished saying this, and true to his word, he did not aim for the Hogsmeade Station where the public Floo was.

He aimed for the Three Broomsticks.

"Malfoy, we don't exactly have time for a drink," Harry grated as Draco landed beside the quiet little tavern.

Draco grinned. "I doubt you'd ever drink here again if you knew my family owned this place."

"What?!"

"Sixty percent of it, anyway," the prince of Slytherin continued. "But we aren't here for butterbeer." He darted in the back door, past a surprised bartender, and up the stairs to the living quarters on the rear of the second floor. He darted into what looked to be a guest bedroom and began rummaging around under the bed.

"Then what _are_ we looking for?" Harry demanded impatiently.

Draco's eyes lit up, and there was a shuffling sound as he pulled an object about the size of a dinner tray out from under the bed. It was covered by a black velvet cloth with an ornate silver "M" embroidered on it.

Draco threw back the cover. It was an intricately carved chessboard. "This," he said.

"All right," Harry said. "I'm listening."

Draco took a deep breath. "Potter, these are all Portkeys."

Harry's eyes widened. "And you're saying that one of these …"

"Two, actually," Draco said, speaking as quickly as he could. "One goes straight into the manor. One goes to our hunting lodge in the woods outside our town."

"Which one goes to the manor?" Harry asked eagerly, his impatience getting the better of him.

"Now hang on, Potter!" Draco shouted. "Listen, don't you think the manor will be guarded?"

Harry was about to issue a sharp retort, but images of Sirius suddenly sprang into his head. _Don't you have a … a saving people thing?_ He had been incredibly lucky to have escaped from the Department of Mysteries and would never have been able to do it without Dumbledore's intervention. That might or might not happen again, but it wasn't something to bet on.

"So we go to the lodge," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Draco nodded. "You go on ahead. Just fly above the woods, you can't miss the manor."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "And just what are you going to do?"

Draco's eyes were ice. He sat down at the vanity against one wall of the room and withdrew a quill, a parchment, and a small ornate athame. "I'm going to write dear Father a letter." .

Lucius Malfoy strode up the corridor from the vault where his master's greatest prize had been kept as quickly as he dared. The sleeping form of the girl floated behind him, but he had painfully learned the lesson that she was not to be touched. He was not about to assume that he was alone just because there was nobody else around.

He reached the fireplace of the Arcanum Malfi and quickly brought the captive Slayer through into the library. Bellatrix was waiting on the other side.

"Hurry, Lucius," she said. "We need to get her out of here. The Rosenberg girl will be here any minute."

"I'm well aware of the situation, Bellatrix," Lucius replied tightly. The Levitation Charm was a simple spell, but Slayers were naturally resistant to magic and the basilisk-hide bindings that the Dark Lord kept the Slayer bound with were even more so. It was taking an inordinate amount of concentration to maintain the spell, and he could not move her anywhere near as quickly as he had believed. Nonetheless, the Rosenberg girl had only taken off from Hogwarts minutes earlier. The Slayer would be long gone by the time she got here.

"I'm glad to hear that," Bellatrix replied haughtily. "But if you would, allow me to assist anyway." She quickly chanted her own Levitation Charm. Lucius' mouth compressed; it was easier to move the sleeping girl with Bellatrix' help, but he was not about to admit that.

"Come on," Bellatrix ordered sharply, and they moved on towards the Hall of Wisdom. Lucius felt a sharp tinge of vindication at seeing Bellatrix' mouth compress with effort as they moved; this was not as easy for her as she was trying to make it look, either.

They reached the Hall of Wisdom and moved the sleeping girl towards the chessboard in the alcove. Lucius cast a glance upward; Voldemort was outside on the balcony opening out over the main entrance to the manor. The Dark Lord's back was to them, but he made no mistake that Voldemort was paying close attention to him.

"Goodbye, sweet Slayer," Lucius intoned with mock-sympathy as they approached the row of Portkeys. "I hope you like the weather in Kyrgyzstan."

Suddenly, a sense of magic being activated nearby reached his senses, and he cast about weakly for the source. Bellatrix felt it, too, and cast a quick, sharp look around, but both of their powers were concentrated on maintaining the spell on the Slayer.

They were thus unable to react when a letter suddenly appeared on the chessboard.

Lucius' eyes barely had time to widen. It had appeared touching the kingside white rook, which meant that it was from the Hogsmeade safehouse. It was red, which meant it was a Howler. And it was stamped, crudely but unmistakably, with the ornate "M" seal of Malfoy House, written in a deep maroon—a sign of potent mystical power even when it was not written in the blood of an heir of the line.

The letter burst open a split-second later, and the voice of the true Heir of Malfoy echoed in the chamber.

_"REDUCTO!"_ Draco's voice thundered.

_"NO!" _Bellatrix screamed as the chessboard and all the Portkeys on it were pulverized into dust.

.

Harry immediately whipped his wand out the moment the inside of the Malfoy hunting lodge came into view. He had only half-trusted Draco when he said that this would take him anywhere near Malfoy manor, but he had been completely out of options. Draco had been right; there would have been no chance to catch Willow by flying. She had been moving too fast. That didn't necessarily mean he trusted his old nemesis. On the other hand, Dumbledore had apparently believed that Draco was serious, and Fawkes, who had always been a good judge of character, hadn't reacted badly to the presence of the Slytherin prefect.

Well, it certainly looked like a hunting lodge. There was no one in sight. In addition, there was a kind of feel on the air, like the pressure in the air just before the impact of a storm, that made him feel that this was indeed the right place. Nonetheless, he was on his own in the middle of unfamiliar territory. Malfoy territory.

_I'm going to write dear Father a letter? What was that about?_

There would be time to deal with that later. Quickly, Harry clutched his Firebolt and darted to the door of the lodge. Once clear of the building, he mounted the broom and slowly inched his way skyward, trying to get a good look out over the trees without flying into the open.

Malfoy Manor was easy enough to spot. The manor lay atop a high, terraced rise about two miles to the east, a high point before the valley widened and fell away even further east. The hunting lodge was nestled in the tapered end of the valley as it narrowed and rose into hills, and finally mountains to the west. This was the place.

He turned his attention to the northwest, in the direction from which Willow would arrive. His eyes widened. _Had arrived,_ he corrected himself. The mountains to the north were already overcast with the shadow of the stormclouds that had formed in her wake, and were driving out across the valley as though lashed with whips. A drop of rain struck his cheek a moment later.

_Willow,_ he thought desperately, urging his broom into the air, intent on finding her even if he had to fly through a hailstorm to do it.

A moment later, however, he felt a fierce heat on his face and an orange light streaked across his vision. There was a roar in the air, followed by a distant sound like thunder from up the valley.

A ferocious curse burst from his lips as he swerved away. A moment later, as he realized what the light had been and where it had come from, he realized that getting to the manor was going to be harder than he thought.

.

The last sliver of the sun's scarlet disk was just sliding behind the horizon to the west as Willow descended below the clouds and beheld the Malfoy fief for the first time. She was approaching from the northwest, from the rear of the palace, where the landscaping was at its most magnificent because there was no need to make concessions to the needs of engineering a roadbed. The surface of the myriad pools of the six terraces of water gardens behind Malfoy Manor shone with a burnished red-golden light, reflecting the last rays of the setting sun, and even in the waning light, the gardens, orchards, and vineyards surrounding the manor house were tranquil and serene.

Willow slowed to a stop, hovering high above the mountains. Dark wisps of the cloud that had trailed in her wake began to drift past her, and she became conscious of the wind that she had been outrunning. The storm that had gathered behind her was close on her heels.

_"Binoculate,"_ she chanted, determined to get a closer look before the clouds covered the sky.

It was impossible to tell if any of the figures near the manor below were Voldemort or not, as they were all wearing black robes, and masks covered their faces. There were at least two dozen of them, and all of them bore wands. However, none of them provoked any kind of telltale reaction within her, so she guessed that Voldemort was waiting for her inside, either hoping that his henchmen could deter her, slow her down, capture her, or kill her. Either that, or he just wanted to see how she would handle them.

_Aw, what a shame,_ she thought contemptuously as the thunderclouds began to swirl past her and the first drops of rain began to fall into the valley below. _It was such a pretty little house._ She turned and held her wand aloft, building power she had not built since that fateful day on Kingman's Bluff.

_"Tempestas meteora!"_ she screamed. The wand in her hand seemed to burn with ecstasy at the power she sent through it, and at the sound of her voice, now cold and powerful that it rang as a command to the very stars.

There was a screaming sound and a rush of heat as what looked to be a blazing trail of fire whistled out of the sky and passed by her. A few seconds later, another came, and then another, then two more, then four, larger than the others as well.

With a scream of glee, Willow leaned her broom downward and plunged down from the sky, a shower of meteorites sailing by her head and streaming out before her as her vanguard. As she neared the water gardens in the rear of the palace, she saw the Death Eaters already in disarray. One meteorite slammed into the pool at the base of one of the waterfalls, sending up a wall of water and steam that engulfed two of the Death Eaters and threw them into the trees. Others brought entire sections of the terrace walls crumbling down on the Death Eaters attempting to use them as cover. Others simply impacted on the stone walkways of the formal garden against the back wall of the manor, filling the air with a cloud of meteoric dust.

"Ready?" Willow hissed into her robes as she neared the ground. There were still a number of Death Eaters in the formal garden that hadn't broken yet, and another half-dozen reinforcements were emerging from within; Voldemort had probably kept his staunchest forces closest to the manor.

"Yesss," came the rather amused reply from within. Willow grinned mirthlessly as she withdrew her trusty garter snake from within her robes. She quickly fed him her most concentrated Giant Strength, Centaur Speed, and Arcane Resistance potions, held him out at arm's length, and chanted, _"Wingardium Leviosa."_ She was almost at the level of the formal garden, and the spells of the Death Eaters were beginning to flash by her now; she noted with passing interest that most were Stunners or Impediments, not Killing Curses. She was moving across the line of fire, however, and was going far too fast for any of them to get a good lock on her.

When she was less than ten feet above the garden, she let Squiggles go, and swerved skyward again, floating him down to the ground as she did so without looking at him. As she expected, no one paid any attention to the tiny little animal dropping to the ground amid the storm of rain and meteorites, not with Willow swerving in so close and distracting the attention.

She was about a hundred feet in the air again when she banked around to get a look at Squiggles again. The closest Death Eaters were less than thirty feet from him, but they were paying him no attention.

_Poor guys,_ she mused. _You have no idea what's about to happen to you, do you?_

_"Engorgio!"_ she barked. She kept her voice level and precise, but she channeled a prodigious amount of power behind the spell. The charm streaked outward toward the tiny shadow on the flagstones, and immediately the little garter snake began to grow. And grow. And grow. Willow grinned wickedly as the cries of the nearest Death Eaters rang out, their attention suddenly distracted by a garter snake, its veins already singing with Willow's most potent potions, now nearly the size of a basilisk.

Willow flinched briefly, as casting that spell for some reason brought a sudden ache to the place where she had been wounded on her neck, and to where the dead basilisk's fang had scraped her hand in the Chamber, but she pushed it to one side of her mind. There was a battle going on.

She angled sharply to the right and down, cutting around the corner of the palace towards the front. A moment later, she came out in full view of the front of Malfoy Manor, with the high fountain on the plaza right before the main entrance, and the straight path of stairs and plazas cutting through the terraces down to the village below. Her eyes narrowed. More Death Eaters were scaling the stairs to the manor. Voldemort had to have summoned reinforcements the moment he knew she was coming, but with Malfoy Manor, like Hogwarts, warded against Apparating, they had had to appear in the village and make the trek to the manor on foot.

_Tough luck for them,_ she thought.

She soared out above the enormous fountain that stood before the front gates of the manor, positioning herself so that she was facing straight down the broad stairs and plazas all the way to the village. There were at least another two dozen Death Eaters on the stairs, some as close as the sixth circle, others barely beginning their ascent. A few of the nearest ones stopped to aim Stunning spells, but she merely laughed and climbed higher out of range. She could probably have hit them from that range, but she wasn't aiming at small people.

She was aiming at a large fountain.

Her eyes blazed, and her voice rang like a clarion call as she aimed her wand downward. _"Te invoc Neptunus, este dreptul aqua meu de a conduce!"_ Then, a moment later, _"Iluvio!"_

The fountain began to bubble and swirl. Suddenly, there was a rumble, and the earth shook. A great torrent of water blasted skyward from the fountain, ten times as powerful as the greatest natural geysers, rising into the air like a vast, shimmering tower flashing in the burning light of the meteor shower. Then the top of it cascaded over, and the tower toppled forward and down the stairs in a thunderous deluge. The Death Eaters nearest the top were swept away, while those farther down turned and sprinted back to the bottom of the stairs, trying to make it to the edge of the anti-Apparition ward. A scant few tried to fend it off with walls of stone, or to avoid it by levitating above it, but seeing what they were up against, they too quickly turned and fled once the initial fury of the flood abated.

Satisfied that she had cleared the outside of the house, Willow turned her attention on the great front doors of Malfoy Manor. She drew back her wand to loose a Reductor on them, when a crack suddenly appeared between the doors. She lowered her wand an inch or two, but she was not about to relax, as the doors of the Malfoy ancestral seat opened wide to admit her. The interior was nearly lightless; the only light was the sporadic red glare that a few of the meteorites falling nearby cast across the first few yards of what looked to be a massive chamber inside.

_Well, thanks for the invitation …, _she thought with a shrug as she alighted from her broom and inched forward into the darkness.

.

Harry hovered above the woods, looking at the Malfoy palace in the distance amid the barrage of torrential rain and celestial artillery. The storm showed no sign of abating, despite the fact that Willow had long since moved on to other spells. He could feel the power radiating off of her, even at this distance.

"Salazar's ballocks!" he heard a sudden shout from nearby, and turned down to see Draco rising from the small clearing in front of the hunting lodge beneath him.

"Welcome home!" Harry called back.

Draco turned around; he hadn't even noticed Harry, so focused had he been on his home in the distance. "What are you still doing here?" he asked.

Harry laughed. "Screwing up my guts to go through that."

Draco turned back and took another long look at the manor in the distance. "We're off our bloody rockers, you know that?"

"It had occurred to me," Harry admitted.

"She's going around front," Draco suddenly called. "Get to the rear balcony. Now or never!"

Harry steeled himself. Suddenly, his nerves subsided. This was suddenly just another slightly different game of Quidditch, no different than what he had done against the Hungarian Horntail. Heck, he even had Draco here to fly against. The only difference now was that the bludgers were red. And hotter. And larger. And faster. And everywhere. And …

_Oh, hell with it! _he grated as he lunged his broom forward. Draco was right beside him.

A meteorite flashed only inches from his head. He blinked quickly and flew on. Beside him, Draco rolled as another falling rock flashed through where his chest had been a moment earlier; he was upright again a moment later, the Skyfire evening the flying edge between them the same way the Nimbus 2001 had done when Harry had still been flying his first broom. Harry dove into a roll, doing a forward somersault, feeling the presence of another coming up behind him the way he had always been able to sense incoming bludgers. Draco knocked another one that was getting too close off course with an Impediment.

They reached the terraces, then the formal garden, the landscape beneath them blurring because of the rain and because of their speed.

"Hey, Squiggles!" Harry said as he and Draco darted past above the enormous snake.

"Good evening," Willow's pet responded, casually lashing one of the last Death Eaters that had stayed to fight with his enormous tail. The masked wizard sailed up and over the side of the terrace, landing in a pool in the water garden below with a splash that was largely drowned out by the blitz of wind, water, fire, and stone.

Then they were on the balcony. Draco was dodging a meteorite as they reached it, and had to roll through the curtains and into the interior. Harry hit the ground running, not bothering to catch his broom and letting it skip in past the curtains ahead of him.

They were through the curtains a moment later. The crash of the storm and stones outside was suddenly much quieter; the curtains had to be enchanted. In fact, it was all too quiet; the house seemed empty.

"Will this place hold?" Harry asked, his voice small in the deafening silence. He cast a nervous glance towards the ceiling as he retrieved his broom.

"Held for six weeks against a hundred giants pounding it with rocks from the mountains above," Draco answered, equally softly. "Should hold for … well, I don't know, another hour or two."

"Right," Harry answered.

"Right," Draco answered. He pointed down a stairwell a short distance to their right. "Down there and to the front is the main hall, Willow will come in there. I'll find Buffy."

Harry nodded and headed for the stairwell.

"And Potter," Draco called behind him. "Watch yourself. He keeps dementors around him now."

"Got it," Harry acknowledged darkly as he darted down the stairs.

Harry had a good sense of direction and the house was laid out in a fairly straightforward manner, so it wasn't hard to find the way towards the front of the house. The stairwell led down into a moderate-sized formal dining room. The east door from there led into a smaller, private dining room. His eyes widened as he entered that; the east door of this room led into the great hall, and he could see all the way down the hall to the great double doors beginning to open. The rest of the Hall of Wisdom was dark, which left the figure illumined in the widening portal illuminated in stark relief, and Harry could not mistake that silhouette. It had occupied his dreams and daydreams every day and night for nearly the past three months.

"W …" he began to shout, when suddenly he felt power being drawn behind him.

_"Terrandicto!"_ a cold, and all-too-familiar, woman's voice chanted. A wall of earth burst from the ground and sealed the entrance to the great hall beyond, cutting him off from Willow. Harry could have broken it down in a minute, but that was suddenly the last thing on his mind. A cold flame flared in his belly.

_"Protego!"_ he chanted, fending off the next spell, which he knew would be heading his direction a second later. Sure enough, his words blended with the sound of the cold voice calling, _"Crucio!"_ but his shield held.

Bellatrix Lestrange stepped back from the doorway back into the larger dining room. "Well done, Potter," she said. "Now … where were we the last time?"

Her mouth was twisted in a cold grin, but Harry suddenly realized that his own was even colder. She was here. She had walled off the door to the great hall, and they both knew there was no way he could turn away from her to break it down. She intended to fight him.

He intended to oblige.

"You were buried under a statue," he returned coldly. _"Reducto!"_ A large, ornately carved stone at the top of the arch separating the formal and private dining rooms blasted free and sailed at Bellatrix' head. She reacted quickly and deflected it aside into the floor.

"Sort of like that," he emphasized.

"Aww, ickle bitty Potter, are you still … _angry_ … about Sirius?" she mocked, backing away into the dining room to let him out where there would be more space for dueling.

Harry advanced into the formal dining room, squaring off across from her. "Of course not," he said casually. "I mean, you've forgotten all about the prophecy, right?"

Her eyes glittered, and Harry's grin broadened as she raised her wand. _"Garde."  
_

_.  
_

Draco Malfoy tensed as he entered the Arcanum Malfi. If he were holding a prisoner here, one that had any real talent or chance of escape, anyway, there was only one obvious place to hold her. The vaults were the most secure place in the house, and were so well warded against detection that one might take the castle but never find them if one did not know what to look for. But Draco _did_ know what to look for, and his father knew that, and had to know he was coming because of the Howler. So where were the guards? The fireplace was vacant.

He tensed again. He was sure he had heard a sound somewhere nearby, and the same instincts that had made him the best … well, maybe occasionally second-best … Quidditch player at Hogwarts were telling him that there was something nearby.

His eyes narrowed. It was too far away, across the room, but if he moved any closer, if anyone was there, they might notice and be able to surprise him. Whoever it was was waiting until he got too close to miss or react. If he sped up, he might give himself away. But there was still one way to find out.

Without warning, he loosed his Skyfire from his grip, sending it across the room with the speed of a small rocket. There was a muffled cry, and an ottoman in the reading area in front of the fire suddenly tipped over. That was all the information Draco needed. He pointed his wand at the space on the floor just behind the ottoman, and chanted, _"Finite Incantatem."_

There was a faint sound like an echo of cloth being torn far in the distance. A man appeared where Draco had aimed, half-sprawled on the floor, rising to his feet, his invisibility potion neutralized.

Draco gave his most friendly, political grin, but his wand was steady in his hands. "Good evening, Father."

.

Willow stopped a short distance into the darkness. The moment she had crossed the threshold, she had known she was not alone in the room. There was a powerful presence here, dark and sinister. She thought she had seen and sensed something for a brief moment in one corner of the room, but there was no light there now, and the presence she felt was closer to the middle of the room.

"So are we going to play Mr. Dark and Ominous forever, or are you gonna turn on the lights at some point?" she quipped.

There was a brief silence as the echoes of her statement died away. Then a high, soft voice greeted her, not in English, but in a soft, almost sensuous hiss. "Welcome, Willow," the voice said.

Willow's eyes narrowed. "Thank you," she returned, in a hiss far more icy than the one that had greeted her.

The voice came again, this time in English. "I suppose the darkness does get a little dreary. Besides, we both bring so much into this hallowed hall, a suppose a little light won't make much difference." Light suddenly blossomed in the chamber, a silvery-green light that radiated from the Corinthian columns of emerald and silver marble that marched down the chamber towards the throne. More light came from the dais itself. The light was dim, even with all the surface area illuminated, but it was easily bright enough to see.

A figure rose from the throne. It was a man, or at least perhaps had been so at one time, but his features seemed to have taken on serpentine aspects, and his slitted eyes glowed a deep, baleful crimson. He carried a wand which, to all outward appearances, could have been the twin of Willow's own. Once he was standing, however, he made no motion to approach; he stood regally before the throne, waiting for her to approach, like a sovereign waiting on a supplicant.

Willow was not about to let herself be impressed by appearances, or play into his games. "You've got my friend," she grated.

Voldemort's smile was irritatingly arrogant. "Indeed," he admitted. "And you have my wand."

Willow's eyes glittered, and she raised the yew wand defiantly. "I'm not trading."

Voldemort's smile broadened. "Neither am I."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who's been so patient with me thus far! I try to get these out as quickly as possible, but … well, law school. 'Nuff said. :-( I can't thank you enough for all your support. That, and the fact that has been really frustrating in messing up the format of my stories, and I'm a big enough stickler that that actually bothers me. Hence the random "." lines when I used to do the rows of asterisks or triple-space between smaller sections.

For "action" fans (especially any that might have made the jump with me from anime to HP, since a lot of you seemed to like my battle scenes from RK), the next several chapters are pretty much nonstop action. ;-) Draco vs. Lucius, Harry vs. Bellatrix, Willow vs. Voldemort. At the very least, they've been a lot of fun to write so far.

** Coming Soon: **Chapter 43, "Of Fathers and Sons." Draco's finally got his chance at Lucius, and the elder Malfoy and Voldemort's dementors are all that stands between Draco and the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.

** Sneak Preview:**

Now, now, that would give way too much away! Patience is a virtue. ;-)


	43. Of Fathers and Sons

** DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

** SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

** CHAPTER 43:**

** OF FATHERS AND SONS**

The Arcanum Malfi was as silent as a hallowed library should be. Only the faintest draft, perhaps a stray piece of air stirred by conflict elsewhere in the palace, rustled the exposed pages of a text that had been left open here or there. However, this was not the peaceful silence of a place of learning. This was a silence so heavy it could be cut with a sword, the kind of silence that passes for conversation between two people who are long past words.

For a long minute the father and son of the Malfoy line regarded each other. Draco had been waiting for this moment since the moment his father, Deggle, and Bellatrix had surprised him at Hogwarts Station. However, now that it was here, he was finding it hard to make the first move. His nonchalant challenge had long since died in the air. Everything from here on was unscripted.

"I got your message," Lucius said icily.

"You always did like checking to see how far I'd come."

"It was outstanding."

"Glad you liked it."

"Pity, however. It was too late."

Draco's stomach wrenched, but he did not let the ice in his silver eyes soften. "Too late? You're still here, aren't you?"

"Ah, indeed I am, but was I truly the one you were looking for?"

"You'll do for now."

"Oh, I'm touched. _Stupefy!"_

"_Protego!"_ Draco snarled. The Stunner turned aside into a nearby bookshelf, knocking a few priceless tomes to the floor. Draco suddenly found himself breathing easier again, and the blood pulsing in his veins. The House of Serpents prided itself on its maneuvering, its planning, its organization, and its ambition, but when it came down to it, although they did not celebrate it with the same enthusiasm as the Gryffindors, all heirs of the great families enjoyed the forbidden passion of the duel.

_"Impedimenta!"_ Lucius cried again.

_"Impedimenta!" _Draco cried at the same time, willingly stepping into the blast. Lucius' back was against a reading table; Draco was against a soft lounge seat. Draco rolled with the impact and collapsed into the couch, rolling it over backwards. Lucius tumbled ungracefully over the small end table with a loud crash. His long, ever-perfect flaxen hair was visibly disheveled as he rose to his feet.

_"Mobiliarbus,"_ Draco intoned as his father rose. The overturned ottoman that Lucius had stumbled over when Draco had loosed his Skyfire at him suddenly slid towards the elder Malfoy's knees.

_"Reducto!"_ Lucius snapped, even before his balance was fully back. The ottoman was blasted to pieces.

_"Accio Skyfire!"_ Draco snapped. Lucius was not expecting that. Draco's broom, which had flown past Lucius when Draco had launched it at him, suddenly came flying back from behind him and crashed into the back of Lucius' head on the way back to its owner's hand.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Draco spat while his father was unbalanced. He had no illusions about ending the fight that quickly; he had lost all respect for his father as a person, but not as a duelist. His father's greatest weakness, however, had always been underestimating his opponents.

_"Protego!" _Lucius barked, only barely deflecting the jet of light streaking for his hand.

Draco had been expecting that, however. He was already on his Skyfire as Lucius finished his movement, and a moment later, Lucius toppled backward as Draco leaned over and to the right, lowered his shoulder, and delivered a full body blow astride the fastest broom on Earth.

Draco was not finished, however. Draco had always envied the martial prowess of many of Gryffindor's greatest, but he was not of the House of the Lion. He had no problems kicking people when they were down. His father had fallen against the base of a bookshelf. Draco swooped around behind it, narrowly avoiding cracking his skull on the wall as he made the U-turn down the aisle next to the reading area where he and his father had been fighting. He swept his wand in an arc at the base of the shelf, right behind where he knew his father to be. _"Reducto!"_ he barked. There was a blast, and sections of the shelf splintered and broke away, and the entire bookcase teetered dangerously.

The Crown Prince of Slytherin was not done, however. He was still astride his Skyfire, and quickly darted up and rammed into the top of the shelf. The bottom, weakened as it was, cracked and toppled like a tree with most of its trunk chewed away by a beaver. With a thunderous crash, hundreds of pounds of wood, leather, and paper collapsed atop Lucius Malfoy.

_"Apparito!"_ Draco heard his father's panicked voice cry.

_Bloody hell,_ Draco swore inwardly as the books and shelves collapsed on an empty patch of floor. He had never expected that. _He lowered the anti-Apparition ward._ Raising and lowering the wards was the privilege of the heads of the family, but they had not been lowered in more than nine hundred years.

Draco looked around. Lucius could have Apparated to Nepal, but Draco doubted that he would have gone far, though the elder Malfoy would not dash back into the battle quickly. Apparating took a lot out of a person, especially if done under stress, and Draco had scored a solid hit. More likely, Lucius had a stash of healing potions somewhere hidden somewhere in the manor and had gone to them to fix himself up before returning to the battle. Draco knew that he had not bought himself much time, and he had not had time to bring any of his favorite potions with him before he and Harry had had to fly from Hogwarts.

He quickly found the book, _Avarice_, muttered a quick thanks to whoever had cast the enchantments on it that made it impossible to remove from the library, and placed it on the stand atop the mantle. The fireplace slid open, and Draco darted through. He alighted just long enough to duck through the entrance, then he was astride the Skyfire again, darting down the passage as quickly—or perhaps even more quickly—as was safe.

As he approached the door to the vaults, a cold sensation began creeping across his flesh. _Dementors,_ he realized. _Lying bastard. You thought you could fool me._ There was no way Voldemort would have left his dementors down here with the palace under attack without some reason, and there was no way it could have been to capture him. The heir of a great family was a prize for some, but Voldemort played for far higher stakes. Draco was just a pawn to the Dark Lord. Buffy, he now knew, was something more … even if he didn't yet know what. But they had risked a lot to capture him, and used him as a means to capture her. That meant that she was worth something to them.

And even if she wasn't, he had conceded, she was worth something to him. He had never gotten a chance to tell her that. That, more than anything else, had driven him mad during his weeks chained to the Chamber floor.

He reached the wide, semicircular antechamber to the vaults, and steeled himself. The dementors' presence wasn't too strong yet, but it was getting close, and he knew he was in for a shock when he opened the door.

He laid a hand on the latch, gripping his broom handle tightly to keep himself from quivering with impatience as the familiar lattice of light spread outward across the face of the door. A moment later, the door swung open, and he was through. He barely noticed the fact that the family wealth had been cleared out, and that the room now looked like a showroom or arena of some kind. The hallway that led to the smaller, inner vaults was guarded by a pair of dementors, and from the feeling in the air, there were more inside.

Draco alighted and faced them. They took a step forward, then stopped, then another, making their approach as ominous as possible.

Draco took a deep, serious breath. He had considered this possibility. He had even done what he could to prepare for it, ever since he had watched that showoff Potter do this at the O.W.L.'s, but he had never had to do it under pressure.

He raised his wand and pointed it at the dementors. He fixed the image in his mind of the first time he had caught the Golden Snitch, in his second year against Ravenclaw. Then he let loose a clarion call. _"Expecto Patronum!"_

A silver, watery light flowed from the end of his wand, resolving into the vague form of a winged, serpentine silhouette that floated toward the dementors. He cursed inwardly. It was nowhere near as good as that git Potter's had been, if that Granger girl had been right about him driving off a hundred of them at once. Nonetheless, his was good enough to handle two of them; they ducked aside quickly, just a few feet, but it was all the room he needed. He threw himself forward and brought his broom up underneath himself, and was past them before they had a chance to recover their balance.

The feeling of more dementors nearby got stronger as he entered the corridor. Soon enough, it was coming from a doorway directly to his left. Draco's lips compressed grimly. The Viewing Vault; it was where the Malfoys of old had kept their most beautiful treasures. That was why wide shelves had been built into the walls.

He put his hand on the latch. "It's me," he said. The door opened, and Draco darted inside.

He immediately swooped up and into the ceiling overhead; it was twenty feet high in here, more than enough to give him flying room. His precaution was well advised; cadaverous hands swooped out from both sides as he came through the door, but the dementors were blind. They had no idea he had come on a broom. He was through before their hands could reach him, and up into the air.

_There she is!_

Suspended in midair, unconscious, was the blond-haired girl whose face had been in his thoughts so often over the past two months. He gasped. She was bound and gagged more elaborately than he had ever seen anyone trussed, in a material that he tugged at his memory even upon looking at it for just a brief moment.

_What in Hell have they been doing with her?!_

He dove from the ceiling and turned himself upside down to grasp onto her, wrapping his arms about her waist from above, so as not to come within range of the dementors. He had no idea if they could jump, but fortunately, it didn't look so. They just stood there, now lined up blocking the exit, confident that their mere presence would bring him down eventually; it was a siege.

_We'll see about that, _Draco thought darkly, getting Buffy positioned on his broom. He chuckled grimly. The Levitiation Charm that was holding her aloft actually aided him now, as it was still affecting her, and she weighed next to nothing in his hands. He quickly turned her right-side-up; he had been upside down when he grabbed her, so she was now upside down after he had righted himself.

_"Ennervate,"_ he whispered. Nothing happened. Draco shrugged; whatever material she was wrapped in was probably highly magic-resistant.

He quickly set about freeing her, first from the gag and blindfold, then from the tight-fitting straitjacket. He gasped, and his eyes widened. A moment later, he cursed himself for looking and thinking such thoughts at a time like this, but it was hard to avoid. Voldemort had dressed her in the _sai'ha,_ the ancient battle garb worn by sorceresses of the great families in Egypt and Mesopotamia millennia ago: loose harem pants and a form-fitting choli in matching silver, green, and black. With a start, he wondered for a moment about the purpose of the arena-like showroom that his vaults had become.

The gravity of their situation quickly forced him back to reality, however. _"Ennervate,"_ he tried again, and this time, Buffy stirred. She still did not recover fully, however, which made Draco wonder if he were more tired than he felt—if there was such a thing. He had been able to perform the Revitalizing Charm flawlessly since his third year.

"Buffy?" he whispered earnestly. Then, a moment later, remembering that the dementors were deaf and it really didn't matter if they heard him anyway, he repeated her name, a little louder.

"Wha …?" Buffy muttered groggily.

Suddenly, Draco jerked the broom and wrapped his arms tightly about the blond girl's waist; she gripped him reflexively. The Levitation Charm had faded as soon as she had begun to move on her own again.

"Gyaaah!" Draco gasped hoarsely, and spots danced in front of his eyes. It had never sunk in until this point that he and Buffy had never actually touched, much less embraced, in real life. He had never exactly pictured his first hug being like this.

She was _strong._

"Wha …?" Buffy repeated, suddenly seeming to partially realize where she was, and that her hands were free. It was a bit late, however; she toppled over the side of the broom, and Draco, still dazed from the force of her embrace, could not catch her; it was all he could do to keep from crashing.

"Buffy, NO!!" Draco cried as she fell.

She hit the ground with a thud, and Draco prepared to dive, hoping she hadn't broken anything; she be lucky if all she got was the wind knocked out of her. It was a good fifteen feet to the ground.

When he dove, however, he came up empty. She wasn't there anymore.

The dementors had begun closing in as soon as Buffy had toppled from the broom. However, Buffy had not lain still on the floor for even an instant. With a feral, absolutely terrifying snarl, she had vaulted to her feet; Draco swished through where she had been a moment earlier and caught nothing but empty air. He swerved for a few seconds to reorient himself; Buffy's grapple had left him lightheaded, and his reflexes on the Skyfire were nothing like they had been moments earlier.

When he did finally get his eyes back in focus, however, he gasped at the sight below him.

Two dementors leaned forward to grab the blond-haired girl. She spun to the right and plowed one of them over, knocking it into its fellow like a domino. She swept the cadaverous legs out from the next, toppling it to the earth.

Then she rose to her feet. _Salazar's ghost,_ Draco thought, _she was just getting warmed up._

As she rose, Buffy connected with a crushing uppercut into the chest and jaw of the next in line. There was a sickening crunch, and the dementor was catapulted across the room and slammed into one of the creatures that had remained by the door. The one she had swept a moment earlier began to rise to its feet; Buffy grabbed it by one arm, swung it over her shoulder and brought it down in a piledriver atop one of the ones she had knocked over to start the fight.

"Buffy!" Draco called. There was no way she could win this. _Could she?_ Dementors could take a lot of beating, and there were eleven of them in here and two more in the hall that would be here at any second; thirteen on one was too much for anyone, even if Voldemort had been doing something to make her stronger.

_Had Voldemort?_ Draco's mind suddenly flashed back to one of the last conversations he and Buffy had had, on the roof of Slytherin Tower, and the acrobatic move she had done to throw herself onto her broom upside down in midair from a standing start. Then there was her first time on the broom, in the great stairwell. _Has she been capable of this the whole time?_

Buffy looked up at him then, and Draco backed skyward a yard; her eyes were blazing. Nevertheless, he steeled himself to meet her eyes, hoping that something would penetrate whatever rage she was in at the moment.

"Buffy!!" Draco called again, more earnestly, seeing that another dementor had used the opportunity a she looked skyward to lunge for her.

Buffy caught one of its arms with her own without even looking. Then she twisted down that arm, got behind it, and spun its head around on its neck with a sickening crack. Draco flinched, even as his awe heightened. Dementors were physically almost as tough as vampires. Breaking their necks was still not enough to kill them, but it still would have taken the strength of a giant to do it so casually. _How strong _is _she?_ he wondered.

She was not done yet, however. The dementor flailed around uselessly as Buffy sprang into the air, landed on the dementor's head, and used that as a springboard to hurl herself skyward. Draco was almost too overcome with surprise to reach out to grab her.

She landed in front of him on the broom, seated facing him.

"You want to shift ar … um, Buffy?" he asked, as Buffy's nose was suddenly an inch from Draco's own, and her hand was suddenly dangerously near his throat.

"Buffy …?" Draco managed, slowly. Then, he remembered. Polyjuice Potion. Buffy couldn't be sure that he was actually himself.

"I've missed you," he said simply. It was the only thing he could think of to say.

Suddenly, without warning, she reached a hand under his chin and rubbed it. He cast his eyes down to see what she was doing, then gave her a puzzled look.

"Remember this?" she asked, her voice suddenly low and suggestive.

"Remember what?!" he demanded. Then, something in her voice when she said that caught at him, and his mind leapt to the worst conclusions. "Buffy …" he grated, his eyes glinting. _"What did that bastard do to you?"_

She met his eyes for a long, drawn-out minute. Then, she smiled. Once she smiled, her smile broadened. "Oh, gosh, it's a hell of a long story, but can I wait to tell it later?"

Draco looked down. "Good idea," he grated. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the dementors. He braced himself. _"Expecto Patronum!"_ he called. A silver light emerged from the end of his wand again, but it was hazy and indistinct. The first few dementors shied away from it, but only for a brief moment, and those behind barely budged.

"Bloody hell," Draco rasped. He looked at her. "Don't suppose you've got a wand?"

"That's what's left of it over there," Buffy said dejectedly, pointing at a place on the ledge at the edge of the chamber. Two broken pieces of wood lay there.

"You must be joking … he _left_ it here?" Draco gasped. _"Accio fragments!"_ The pieces of Buffy's wand leapt into Draco's hands.

"Not exactly," Buffy was saying as he did it, however. "He took the phoenix feather."

Draco had quickly realized the same thing. "Damn," he spat, slipping the fragments into his robe. He tried another Patronus, with little better results than the first.

"So now what?" Buffy asked. "Just sit up here 'til they find us?"

"'They' may be a little busy," Draco answered. "Willow and Harry are here. They're … well, a bit peevish."

Buffy's eyes widened, and a shade of true alarm sparked in her eyes. "Oh, no!" she cried. "Is Willow gone again?"

"Well, I don't know what _you_ mean by gone, but I'd say …"

"Powerful, evil, ending-the-world kind of gone?"

"Meteor showers, flash floods, fighting Voldemort kind of gone."

"Dammit!" Buffy cried, spinning around to face forward on the broom. "Come on, we've got to get to her."

"A lot of really foul things between here and there," Draco pointed out.

"I can handle myself."

"Right," Draco sighed. She was strong, but she couldn't be thinking very clearly if she thought she was a match for Voldemort; the Dark Lord was far stronger than even thirteen dementors. Still, she had to have been down here with the corpselike creatures for weeks. That she could still think at all was a miracle. The girl had to have a will of pure steel.

He raised his own wand again and chanted, _"Expecto Patronum!"_ but to little more avail than the last time. "Bloody useless," he spat as the winged serpent approached the dementors, causing perhaps three or four to move aside before it grew hazy and dissipated.

"No, it's helping … helping me feel …" Buffy whispered, a hint of a different note in her voice now.

"Feel like what?" Draco asked. _Helping drive away their effects,_ he realized, remembering how long she had been down here. _Just not enough to drive the things themselves away. It won't last._

_Buffy … I can't keep this up forever …_

"What are you thinking about when you do that?" Buffy asked suddenly. Draco arched an eyebrow at her back. There was something different about her voice, and about her carriage, too.

"Just a happy memory," he said, readying to try it again but beginning to lose hope. The dementors were beginning to get under his skin. He could feel it.

"I know that," she said impatiently. "What is it?"

"What … oh … er … just the first time I caught the Snitch, against Ravenclaw." It wasn't the happiest of memories, but he didn't have a whole lot to choose from.

"I see," she said. That annoying, knowing tone was still in her voice. The wand definitely seemed to be bringing some of her confidence back; she didn't sound half as frightened as she had a moment ago. "You know," she continued. "I never did get a chance to say thanks."

She spun around on the broom again then. Draco had about half a second to admire her strength and agility, and another half-second to see an incredibly mischievous glint in her eyes, completely out of place in this situation, and then …

He didn't even have enough breath to gasp as her lips locked against his.

The kiss was short, but it sent a thrill and a tingle up and down every nerve in his body. Warmth blossomed in his blood again, and the effects of the dementors receded momentarily; not even they could squelch that much emotion that quickly. Indeed, some of them looked like they were suddenly a little shaky, like someone who had eaten too much. Buffy pulled away and laughed a moment later, then acrobatically climbed around his side and planted herself behind him, her body pressed close against his back and her arms snug around his waist.

"Try it now," she whispered in his ear.

Moments later, Draco and Buffy were speeding through the tunnels beneath Malfoy Manor towards the faint echo of battle raging far above, while deep in the vaults, thirteen dementors lay twitching numbly on the ground, wondering what had hit them.

* * *

**A/N: **W00t!! Thanks so much for all the reviews of last chapter, especially the long ones from new readers! Welcome to my little project!

_Naitch03:_ You're probably right about Dawn, but I never really liked her.

_Marion:_ I know you were reviewing ch. 27, but I'm glad you liked my vision of the manor. I can't believe we haven't seen it in any of the books yet, but maybe it's being saved for a special occasion. Also, thanks for the compliment about Vincent. I always like good reviews about my OC's.

_LilGreenImp:_ Wow! Nice opening review! Welcome to the fic, and thanks in particular for the comparison to _Lisette._ Quite an honor. :-) You'll find out about Dumbledore's package soon enough, I promise. And regarding what would have been more IC regarding Dawn … you're probably right, but I just sort of assumed that the teary and long-winded goodbyes would have happened in the week between chapters 1 and 2, and I didn't particularly feel like writing it. Not a real fan of Buffy's abiogenetic little sis. Don't apologize for the monster review at all, I love reading those! And I promise that all of the other things you mentioned are going to get resolved in the next few chapters. You chose a good time to arrive. I've been keeping my poor regulars in suspense for a while. Evil Anonymous, like you said. :-D

** Coming Soon:** Chapter 44, "Grudges." Harry Potter in the same room with Sirius' murderer and Voldemort's top lieutenant, Bellatrix Lestrange. "Grudges" sums it up.

** Sneak Preview:** Once again, no such luck. :-D Harry vs. Bellatrix! What more do you want?


	44. Grudges

** DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

** SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

** CHAPTER 44:**

** GRUDGES**

_"Impedimenta!"_ Harry snapped.

_"Protego!"_ Bellatrix' reflexes were as quick as Harry remembered; he was sure a lot of people had made the claim to be 'the Dark Lord's most loyal servant,' but Bellatrix probably laid a better claim to the title than most. The fact that Voldemort had spared a few seconds of his precious time to rescue her from within the Department of Mysteries gave her claim some legitimacy.

Harry had been expecting her to send it back at him, however, remembering the Stunner she had nearly blocked back into him in the Ministry. _"Protego!"_ Harry snapped, sending it right back at her.

_"Protego!"_ she snapped again. Harry had to twist violently and duck aside as his curse came back at him a second time; his Seeker's reflexes were barely equal to the task. Bellatrix had a satisfied smirk on her face. Harry was already breathing heavily. He had never heard of a curse being bounced back and forth three times between Shields. The way Bellatrix had handled it, it was like she had seen it before.

_"Stupefy!"_ she continued while he was off-balance, sending a Stunner right behind Harry's Impediment.

Harry's Firebolt, still in his off-hand, leapt to his defense, twisting and blocking the ray of light streaking for his stomach. Harry used the opportunity to dart a few steps farther away from Bellatrix, looking to gain just a little more space …

_"Luminaris solaire!"_ he shouted, and a flash of sunlight burst from his wand.

_"Tenebris nocturne!"_ Bellatrix countered immediately, and a spiral of darkness swirled forth from her own wand, swallowing the blinding light like a drain swallowing water.

Harry had finally gotten what he wanted, however; the flash had bought him enough time to get astride his broom, and he quickly darted for the ceiling of the great dining room. There was not enough room in here for real maneuvering, and the weight of Dumbledore's package concealed inside his robe made flight a little more cumbersome than usual, but he felt much more comfortable against Bellatrix in the air than on the ground.

Bellatrix hissed, realizing what he had done, and quickly cried, _"Reducto!" _aiming for his broom. Harry twisted aside; Bellatrix' curses were faster than any bludger, but Harry was no ordinary Seeker.

Then Bellatrix sent another, and another, forcing him to keep his distance. Her curses flew faster than crossbow bolts, and it was all he could do to avoid them; Bellatrix was moving around the room in a slow dance, not too quickly, just enough to present him with a moving target.

The dark-haired Death Eater was more than just quick, however; she was cunning, and had been practicing the Dark Arts for longer than Harry had been alive. She motioned with her wand as if to cast another Reductor, and Harry twisted aside too soon, only realizing too late that she had not chanted anything. A moment later, he came out of his twist to see an Impediment only feet from his chest.

There was no time to dodge. Harry tensed as the bolt struck home, and was blasted backwards with a cry. Bellatrix was already laughing below as Harry was thrown toward the side of the chamber.

Harry was not done yet, however, and he had been hit by bludgers before and still ended up with the Snitch in his hands at the end of the match. He could not stop his momentum, but he could turn it, and turn it he did, veering away from a collision with the stone wall and instead catapulted himself back-first out one of the great glass windows high in the dining room. There was a crash of glass as Harry passed through, and the air left his lungs, but he was moving so quickly that the glass barely had any time to cut him; the initial impact jarred his grip on his broom, but then he was through, and the glass fell away down the outside wall while he was hurled a hundred feet or more away from the window.

The meteor shower outside was beginning to abate, but glowing rocks the size of tennis balls were still falling amidst the torrential rain outside Malfoy Manor. The window through which he had been thrown was a barely-visible spot of light almost two hundred feet away by the time he got his broom back under control.

He coughed once, and the muscles on his back were burning with pain, but his eyes were still cold and alert. _Not that easy, Bellatrix,_ the thought burned across his mind. _Not this time._

He began streaking back for the window, counting on the darkness and the rain to hide his approach. _Here we go,_ he thought with a malicious grin as he closed the last hundred feet to the window. It had only been seconds.

_"Stupefy!"_ he roared as he twisted in through the jagged gap.

Bellatrix, still laughing, was caught off guard, but still managed to get a Shield up. The force of Harry's curse pushed her back a few steps, however, and the smile quickly vanished from her face. A smile appeared on Harry's face, however, as he realized where she had stepped.

_"Reducto!"_ he snapped as he crossed the room. Not aiming at her. That had done almost nothing. This time, he aimed for the thick, braided chain supporting the massive crystal chandelier under which Bellatrix now stood. There was a shriek of tearing metal, and the chandelier plunged earthward.

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ Bellatrix' voice, now clearly alarmed, came from below. Harry was going so fast that he should have slammed headlong into the wall on the far side of the dining room, but he twisted in midair on the Firebolt only inches shy of it, and actually pushed off the wall with his feet as he sprang back towards her.

_"Finite Incantatem!"_ Harry shouted as he approached, once again aiming not at her, but at the chandelier, and the Levitation Charm that held it aloft above her head.

With a panicked scream, Bellatrix let the Levitation Charm go, and shrieked _"Reducto!"_ channeling every last drop of power she could to pulverize the chandelier in midair as it closed the last few feet towards her. There was a thunderous crash, and the air around Bellatrix was suddenly filled with a shower of crystal dust and splinters of metal.

Harry was jubilant, but he was not finished. _"Stupefy!"_ he thundered, sending a jet of red light at Bellatrix' form in the midst of the collapsing chandelier.

_"Protego!"_ Bellatrix screamed, but Harry had not put a lot of power into the Stunner; he had never intended to finish her with that. It had simply forced her to shield his attack and take the punishment from the collapsing shards of the chandelier. Bellatrix screamed as twisted pieces of silver wire and sharp shards of brilliant crystal cut into her. She was not laughing anymore.

Harry was still closing fast, however, and Bellatrix saw her opening at last. Targets moving directly towards or away from someone were much easier to hit than those moving from side to side. She ignored the cuts that laced her face and hands, and leveled her wand at him less than a second before he reached her.

_"Crucio!"_ she shouted.

Harry's eyes did not even have time to widen; he had prayed that she had been too hurt and drained to work any of the Unforgivable Curses. Perhaps she was past the Killing Curse, but he had underestimated her. Indescribable pain suddenly burned up and down every nerve of his body, and his body jerked as though having a seizure. His wand tumbled from his grasp.

Time seemed to compress into one frozen instant in that moment of agony, however. Years later, Harry would look back upon that instant and wonder how so much had passed through his mind in the space between one heartbeat and the next.

_It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch …_

_Aaaah … did you _love _him, little baby Potter?_

_Oh yes, Harry … I have a package for you, too._

He had underestimated her—but she had also underestimated him.

Fighting against the pain that sought to numb every nerve in his body, fighting for just enough consciousness for one last action, Harry reached into his robe, and his hand closed around the end of Dumbledore's package. With a cry that held every ounce of pain of the Cruciatus Curse and every ounce of the rage he had felt since seeing his godfather tumble through the arch into the inescapable realms of the dead, Harry swept the sword of Godric Gryffindor free of its hiding place.

Carried forward by the momentum of his own Firebolt, rapidly losing the battle with the pain of the Cruciatus, Harry held the sword numbly out at an angle as he passed. There was a brief feel of resistance, but Harry barely felt it; he was too far gone to pull up, and he and his Firebolt crashed into the floor a heartbeat later, a few feet past the dark sorceress.

He hit the ground and rolled, doing his best to roll with the impact, but was largely just rolled by it. His broom skipped away across the polished wooden floor. Godric's sword spun backwards out of his hands and landed, point downward at an angle, embedded in the floor.

He seized a hoarse breath the moment he stopped rolling, flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. It was only after a second one that he realized that his breathing, while painful, was less painful than it had been a moment earlier. He turned his head sideways and his eyes fell on the sword embedded in the floor.

There was clearly a red stain along one side of the blade.

Throwing off the dazedness in his head, he rolled and turned his head in Bellatrix' direction, forcing himself to his hands and knees as he did so. He could go no further.

Neither could Bellatrix.

The dark-haired woman was on her hands and knees as well, crawling weakly toward her wand as blood flowed from a gash in her side. The wand was only a few feet from her, but she was already weakened and injured, and she had to crawl through a floor blanketed with shards of crystal and metal.

Quickly, Harry looked for his own wand, only realizing a few moments later that he had dropped it when Bellatrix' Cruciatus had struck him, and it was on the far side of the sorceress from him. Godric's sword was only a few feet away, however, and he slowly, painfully began to crawl toward it. Even without any debris on the ground here, he winced each time his hand or knee touched the ground. Nevertheless, as slowly as he felt he was going after the dizzying speed of the Firebolt, he was moving faster than Bellatrix. His hands closed about the hilt of the Sword of Gryffindor.

For some reason, holding the hilt of the sword returned a small amount of life to his limbs. Using the sword as a crutch, he was able to leverage himself slowly to his feet. He pulled the tip free of the floor just as Bellatrix finally closed her hand about her wand, turned, and rose to one knee to meet his eyes.

Harry held the sword diagonally out and down in front of him, his left hand resting on the flat of the blade near the tip to keep it steady. Every muscle, bone, and nerve in his body was strained past what he would have believed were their utmost limits, but a fierce, predatory smile blossomed on his face as Bellatrix' eyes met his. Her hands and legs were cut and bloodied, there was a jagged laceration above her right eye and an enormous bruise on her left temple, and the cut in her side was deep. Had her Cruciatus not struck when it had, she might have been cut in half at the waist, and they both knew it. But it was her eyes that brought the smile to Harry's face. Before, even when he had tried his feeble Unforgivable on her in the Department of Mysteries, she had shown him nothing but contempt and scorn. It had been Dumbledore that had defeated her, after all, not Harry. Now, for the first time in his life, Bellatrix Lestrange was looking at him with the respect and fear that showed that she now regarded him as an equal.

"Give my regards … to Sirius," he murmured coldly, as steadily as he could manage.

"Well … done … boy," she rasped, in a voice dripping with spite and frustration. She lifted her wand just an inch from the floor, closed her eyes, and began to chant.

_"Tenebris corporis meum et spiritus meus cedo, reviviscam mea."_

Darkness began to swirl around the fallen woman, and there was a pulsing sound like a great, deep heartbeat. Harry's hand tensed on the sword, fearing that somehow Voldemort's right hand was still able to carry on the fight, and he began to totter forward. As he moved, however, he realized that that was not the case. Her form was beginning to grow less distinct, almost translucent, and she had slumped over again; she was still on one knee, but her head was bowed, her wand hand was on the ground, and her other was desperately clutching at her knee to prevent herself from falling completely prone again.

Once he realized he was not under attack, Harry's adrenaline subsided, and he collapsed to one knee, unable to press his attack, driving the point of Godric's bejeweled sword into the floor for support again. There, just at the edge of the debris of the fallen chandelier, Harry watched the shadowy immolation of Bellatrix Lestrange. Her hair and blood-smirched clothing rippled as though caught in a great wind, and the shadows coalesced into rippling, windswept trails like great flames, engulfing her body. To the deep, rhythmic beat was suddenly added a muted roar like a great bonfire in the distance. With a last, despairing, defeated cry, the form of Bellatrix Lestrange disintegrated, dispersing in a shower of baleful red-violet sparks into the roaring darkness. The fiery roar crescendoed for a brief moment, then faded, and the rippling shadows began to dissipate. The drumming beat faded as well.

Harry found himself alone in the dining hall, which was suddenly as silent as a sepulcher save for the labored sound of his breathing. He stood still for another minute, recovering his breath. Eventually, he began to stumble around the edge of the chandelier debris towards his wand. The after-effects of the Cruciatus were fading, but his back was still cut and bruised, and his entire left side was numb from where he had crashed into the floor.

He finally reached the familiar wand of holly … and promptly toppled over as he leaned forward to pick it up. Spots danced in front of his eyes, but his fingers closed about the base of the wand a moment later.

_"Sanguinum obturo,"_ he whispered. It was a weak healing spell that Willow had transcribed for him in one of her letters; all it did was stop the bleeding, it did not alleviate any pain, but it was all he was able to do at the moment. Indeed, he thought, as his chest constricted from the power running through him again, it might have been more than he was up for.

He searched through his memory for another healing spell, but his thoughts were already going dark. He clutched for the sword to steady himself, but it was now in his off-hand and was jarred loose by the impact. He collapsed ungracefully and lay, gasping, unseeing, on the wooden floor.

--------

Gradually, his thoughts began to collect themselves again. New sounds were reaching his ears … thunderous sounds in the distance, so violent that he could feel them vibrating the floor. Nevertheless, he still could not force his vision back into focus, or force his limbs to move. A minute or two later, he heard other sounds, nearer, softer. Footsteps. Running footsteps. He struggled to open his eyes, but his vision was still blanketed with glowing spots.

"Oh my gosh! Harry!" he heard a female voice nearby cry. A moment later, a male voice chanted, _"Ennervate."_

Energy flowed back into Harry's limbs, and his vision cleared. He reached forward and grasped his wand, straightening gradually to his feet as he did so; he was still extremely tender, but the welcome gift of the Revitalizing Charm made it much easier to bear. As his thoughts cleared, he recognized the voices that had spoken, and, despite the danger they were still in, he smiled as he turned to see Draco and Buffy, the latter dressed in some kind of uniform of green, silver, and black, hurrying along the dining room from one of the far entrances.

"Salazar's ghost, what happened to you, Potter?" Draco asked.

Harry chuckled, then winced as the soreness in his torso reminded him it was still there. "Bellatrix," he said simply. Then, seeing the state Draco was in, he added, "You?"

"Lucius," Draco answered coldly. "Got away. Apparated."

"Same to Bellatrix. But I don't think she'll be back."

"Right. Well, Father might."

"Guys?" Buffy demanded impatiently, flicking her head in the direction from which the sounds were coming.

"Right," said Harry. He turned across the hall. _"Accio Firebolt._" His broom leapt back into his hands. "I'll get Willow. You get her to safe..." he broke off, see the look in both Buffy and Draco's eyes.

The blond American's emerald eyes suddenly glinted dangerously, and she approached him menacingly. She had a commanding presence for someone her size. "Really?" Her voice was soft, but heated. It was plain she did not think much of that plan.

Harry clenched his teeth. He didn't have time to argue this, and Willow was going to kill him if he let anything happen to Buffy.

"You might want to let this one go, Harry," Draco said softly, surprising Harry by using the Gryffindor prefect's first name for the first time. "She threw a roomful of dementors around like dolls. And she's royally tee'd off."

Harry turned to look at Buffy again. "You got your wand back?" he asked, surprised. That seemed more than a little careless of Voldemort.

"I meant barehanded," Draco said flatly.

Harry's eyes widened. He looked from one to the other to see if they were hiding anything, but they both looked in dead earnest. He turned another speculating look on the little slip of a Californian girl that had arrived from America with Willow. Things started clicking in the back of his mind. His mind flashed back to that night at the Atlantis when he had seen what Willow had been capable of, and he found that the idea that Willow's friend also had a few secret abilities up her sleeve was hardly that farfetched, particularly considering how much trouble Voldemort had gone through to lay hands on her.

Abruptly, he stepped forward, pulled Godric's sword out of the floor, and tossed it to the sunny-haired American. She caught it effortlessly.

"Think you can use that?" he asked.

Buffy twirled the sword in her hands a few times, and Harry marveled at how lightly she held it; it was no claymore, but it seemed almost weightless in her hands. Maybe Dumbledore hadn't been off his rocker when he had told Harry to give the sword to Buffy.

"Looks that way," Buffy answered.

"Take care of that. It belonged to Godric Gryffindor."

"Cool, tell him I said tha … oh, wait, that Godric Gryffindor."

Harry actually chuckled briefly, but then another rumble in the floor brought his mind crashing back to the task at hand. His head jerked up. Buffy's eyes had widened at the same time, as though she were cursing herself for wasting time as well.

"Dammit!" Harry shouted, starting back towards the private dining room, intent on breaking down the wall of earth that had sealed the door.

"No!" Draco shouted after him. "Every door on the ground floor's sealed. Second floor balcony!"

_Right,_ Harry grimaced. He hated seeming like he was taking orders from Draco Malfoy, but the Slytherin prefect certainly knew his own home better.

They quickly clambered back up the stairs from the dining room, emerging in the hallway near the curtain opening onto the rear balcony of Malfoy Manor.

Draco immediately pointed around a corner immediately to their left. "That's the fastest way to the Hall," he said.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Where are you going?"

Draco pointed off in the opposite direction. "We'll come in the north balcony. I'm getting her my old Nimbus. Plenty of room in the Hall for flying, just in case."

Harry nodded. He had seen what Buffy could do on a broom; with the Sword of Gryffindor and a Nimbus 2001, she would be as well armed as he could ask, if getting her a wand was impossible.

"All right, troops," Buffy's voice was barely above a whisper, but it somehow carried as though she were shouting. "Move."

* * *

**A/N: **Flying brooms and swords have always struck me as an awesome combination! :-)

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed … 20 reviews for the second chapter running! W00t!

_LilGreenImp …_ glad to see that Dawn's near-absent role in this fic hasn't been _too_ hard for you to bear. :-)

_PhoebeOtaku_ … glad you took the time to sample the HP/BtVS crossover wares … there are some really good ones out there. (Shameless shout-out to my dark idol _Lisette_ and my "Aussome" beta reader _DragonKatGal_ here!)

_smurfinator …_ close enough.

_Silver Warrior _… I kind of thought it would be, either that or a wyvern or dragonling or something of that sort. (And I rather thought that would be a happy memory, too. Freddie isn't talking, though.) ;-)

_ShawThang, musicgirl141_ … see my comments to Silver Warrior. Happy memory indeed. ;-)

_pamie884 _… don't be embarrassed … we've all felt that way before. That's why we take the time to do all this, after all. (Sure isn't for the lucrative profits and retirement plan.)

_SnowyOwl-17_ … welcome to the club!

_BigHarryFan …_ you'll find out soon enough! :-D__

**Coming Soon:** Chapter 45, "The Line Between Justice and Vengeance." One more little match-up to deal with before the final showdown between Willow and Voldemort. Remember Lucius escaped from Draco? Remember Buffy is free now?

Hint. Hint.

** Sneak Preview:**

_ As the collapsing dementor freed the line of sight between herself and a stunned Lucius Malfoy some distance down the corridor, she turned a predatory grin on the Death Eater. "You have no idea how screwed you are, do you?"****_


	45. The Line Between Justice and Vengeance

** DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling. I'm not making any money off this; in fact, if I didn't do this, I could probably get better grades and make more money someday.

** SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

** CHAPTER 45:**

** THE LINE BETWEEN JUSTICE AND VENGEANCE**

The corridors of Malfoy Manor echoed with the rumble of battle as Buffy and Draco sped through the north corridor on the second floor. Tired as she was, Buffy was outpacing Draco; the fresh taste of freedom, the heat of battle, and the assured feel of the Sword of Gryffindor were setting her Slayer's blood on fire.

"Wait!" Draco called suddenly from behind her.

She swung around impatiently to see him disappearing into a room on the north side of the corrider. Biting back a curse, she followed him; she hadn't felt the need for a broom as much as the need to get to the Hall of Wisdom, but she didn't want to let Draco out of her sight.

The door opened into a small suite. A spacious bedroom opened immediately past the sitting room, and Draco was there, heading for a large closet.

"Got it!" he cried, relieved that it hadn't been removed to somewhere; of course, Draco's escape from the Chamber was unanticipated and Lucius had been doing his best to pose as Draco. He pulled a familiar black-and-gold broom from within the closet and hurried back to meet Buffy in the sitting room.

"Thanks," she said as he tossed it to her, catching it and heading back for the door.

"Wait!" he called again, this time a touch of alarm in his voice. Buffy stiffened. She could feel something in the air, too. Even the sword in her hand seemed to be tense, alert to the presence of a new threat.

"Dementors," Draco hissed.

"It can't be," Buffy answered. She had been exposed to dementors for weeks now. She knew what their presence felt like. This sense was strong, but it wasn't getting under her skin the way the cadaverous creatures' spirit-draining powers had. Before Draco could try to stop her again, she darted back out into the corridor.

Buffy's eyes widened. Draco had been right. It was dementors. Buffy could see their cloaked shapes in the light of the crystal torches along the hall, perhaps another forty feet along the corridor, emerging from a pair of other rooms and turning towards the Hall of Wisdom.

_Why did they feel different? They feel … weaker … _Buffy wondered. Then, a moment later, _They aren't coming this way? Oh, God, Willow! If those things get to the Hall …_

The thought was so overpowering that she almost didn't hear the faint popping sound in the corridor behind her.

"Buffy, look out!" Draco screamed, diving into the hallway just as a familiar, despised voice behind her shouted _"Stupefy!"_

Buffy swung around just in time to see a red jet of light streaking for her chest. But Draco was there as well, diving out of his room and throwing his left arm out across the path of the bolt. With a strangled cry, he dropped to the floor and curled up against the wall, clutching his useless arm.

"Well, well, well," Lucius Malfoy mocked as he strode forward from the shadows. "Look who decided to stay for the finale."

Buffy stepped forward to get in front of Draco. "Wouldn't miss it."

"I'm afraid you may not have much choice, Slayer. _Stupefy."_

Buffy dove forward and under the jet, covering the distance between herself and Lucius as though it were an arm's reach, and thrust the sword straight at his heart. Lucius was faster, though, chanting _"Apparito!"_ just as she closed the last few feet. She heard the pop as he appeared some distance down the hall behind her, behind the nearest row of dementors. The fighting had attracted their attention, and they were now advancing back down the corridor towards her. There had to be at least a dozen of them, about the same size squad as the one that had guarded her in the vaults.

Suddenly, Buffy became aware of a searing heat in the palm of her hands, though it somehow did not burn. It had been growing ever since Draco had announced the dementors' presence back in his chambers, but suddenly heightened as she confronted the dementors head-on. Wonderingly, she spared a brief moment to release one hand from the hilt of Godric's sword. The rubies embedded in the hilt were glowing with a fiery red-golden light.

She looked at the blade in her hands. McGonagall's words about dementors suddenly echoed in the back of her mind. _It takes a lot to destroy dementors. Lots of fire, a supernova of positive emotional energy, or the Killing Curse. Maybe Godric's sword and a few other weapons, I don't know._

_ Maybe, indeed, _Buffy thought as she spun towards the dementor leading the group.

She sensed Lucius' alarm, sensed him realize that something he had not counted on was happening, heard him shout _"Stupefy!"_ from behind the advancing creatures.

The sword in her hands reacted before she even had a chance to think, as though it felt her instincts, blocking the red ray of light that came slicing through the group of black-cloaked figures and turning it aside like a mirror. It barely even slowed down her move, and Buffy and the Founder's blade spun together, thrusting out at the last instant and piercing the chest of the first dementor.

There was a blast of flame and oily smoke, and the dementor collapsed in a heap, a voiceless scream sounding in the corridor as the necromancy that bound the dementor's empty animus to its body was severed like a taut thread.

White magma spread up Buffy's veins from the sword in her hands as it tasted battle again. A feral grin spread across her lips as the sensation reached her chest and spread throughout her body. She was almost touching the dementor and was within strides of ten others, and they were having no more effect on her than an autumn wind. She could feel power flowing into her again. She could feel that the sword wanted to fight again as much as she did, and the two of them were feeding off each other as the warrior spirits simmering within them blazed afresh. She twisted the sword in the dementor to allow her to use the few exposed inches of the blade that had not sunk into the creature's body as a mirror, and her smile broadened at the sight of her eyes. They were glowing golden, burning with power she had last tasted on the outskirts of Hogwarts, and before that, not since a climactic night long ago in the depths of the Initiative.

As the collapsing dementor freed the line of sight between herself and a stunned Lucius Malfoy some distance down the corridor, she turned a predatory grin on the Death Eater. "You have no idea what's about to happen to you, do you?"

She wasted no more words, as the other dementors were rapidly recovering from their surprise and closing on her. She was surprised to see that they could be surprised at all; she had thought that they were largely mindless.

With a ferocious battle cry, she lunged forward with her knee and braced it on the corpse of the fallen dementor to give herself leverage to sweep her sword free. It came out in a long, graceful arc, and Buffy laughed as it burst into flame as it came free of the dementor's body. The blade was a dance partner, reacting to the slightest touch, knowing what the other was doing and moving as one. She followed the momentum of the sweep forward and slashed both hands off a dementor that was reaching for her, the flaming aura of her sword setting the thing's robes on fire as well. She followed up with a devastating roundhouse that sent it flying clear up and over the dementor behind it.

Buffy dove aside as two more lunged for her at once, somersaulting off the wall and wrapping her legs around the neck of the nearest one. She held herself like that atop the dementor for a brief instant as she coiled herself, then spun, blocking Lucius' incoming ray, sweeping the head off the second dementor, and pile-driving the one locked between her legs up and over herself all in one fluid motion. She righted herself quickly and spun in a blindingly fast full circle, sweeping out with her sword and disemboweling the next two approaching creatures, leaving a long trail of fire behind the path of her sword. Almost as an afterthought, she stabbed behind herself without even turning around, thrusting through where the eye would have been on the dementor that was just getting to its feet.

The last six dementors that had advanced on her were regrouping a few strides away, and Lucius was beginning to regain his composure. _"Celeritas!"_ he cried, sending his power out in a wave over the dementors in front of Buffy.

Buffy tensed. It was a Haste spell. The dementors came at her again, this time _en masse _and far faster than they had been moments earlier.

She pulled backward and sideways away from the lunging arms of the first one, slashing it across the back as it passed, setting its cloak aflame but only scoring a nick on its body. She dove to the ground and rolled out of the way of the next two, who were moving so quickly that their momentum carried them right by her.

Her eyes widened in alarm. She was only a few feet away from Draco; if any of them decided to take a break from pursuing her …

She darted forward, feinting and drawing in one of the trailing creatures, then stepping forward for real and thrusting through the stomach of the creature as it moved in. She planted her foot on the creature's chest to pry her blade loose as it fell away from her, sweeping back towards one of the ones that had rushed past her and was now coming back from the other direction.

_"Impedimenta!"_ she heard Lucius chant behind her. She had been forced to turn her back on Lucius to meet the dementors coming back down the hall.

"Damn!" Desperately, she twisted aside, and Lucius' blast flew right by her head, shearing away a good piece of her hair that flipped out behind her as she twisted. _Oh, that will so not be the look this fall,_ she cursed to herself.

The twist had carried her off-balance, however, and the nearest dementor managed to crash into her, nearly managing to grapple her. She stumbled; they were almost as strong as vampires, and they were moving quickly because of Lucius' Haste. Fortunately, running into her had unbalanced the creature as well, and she was able to thrust her sword in under its chin before it could regain its balance.

Coiling herself again, she sprang up and off the wall, somersaulting out over the heads of the approaching dementors to draw them away from Draco. She flipped in midair and clove the head of one more of them as she passed.

_"Impedimenta!"_ Lucius cried again, just as she was about to land. Buffy had to turn her sword aside to deflect the blast, and the three remaining dementors used the extra second to close on her. She swept her sword back as quickly as she could, but one of them dove in under the slash, aiming for her legs.

Buffy screamed as she felt something sharp pierce her calf.

_"Finite Incantatem!"_ another voice cried. Buffy's eyes widened. The voice was Draco's; he had pulled himself into a leaning position against the doorway of his bedroom. The dementors suddenly slowed to normal speed.

With a cry, Buffy swept her sword back and swept the head off the dementor that was clutching her leg with its claws and had just pressed its mouth to her calf. Its claws and fangs tore long gashes in her leg as the corpse fell away.

Panic welled up in her for a heartbeat as images of what had happened to Lupin flashed across her mind, but a moment later, she realized she was still mobile. The dementor had only barely pierced her skin, and only for a split-second. She was not sinking into torpor.

Something else was happening.

Red rippled across the gold in Buffy's vision, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears for one immeasurable second. A low, dangerous, predatory growl escaped her lips. To her left, she suddenly heard Draco give a frightened gasp. The sound made her blink, and the feeling receded slightly.

Lurching forward, desperate to do as much damage as she could before Lucius could cast another Haste spell, Buffy half-stumbled and thrust her sword past the outstretched arms of one of the two remaining dementors, striking true and piercing its chest.

The last one, despite being in its death throes from the fire that she had set to its cloak earlier in the fight, seized the moment as she stumbled and her sword was lodged in its companion to fall on her sword-arm.

_"Impedimenta!"_ she heard Lucius cry.

She twisted wildly and braced herself for the impact; she had no attention to spare for dodging the attack, all her attention was focused on keeping the creature's mouth away from her arm. With a wild burst, she tore free, but the creature's claws raked across her arm as she did so, and the sword of Gryffindor tore free of her grip. The force of her twist threw her away from the dementor, and she tumbled to the floor. Pain shot up her leg as she landed hard on her left thigh, though the hiss that escaped through her clenched teeth was more angry than pained. The red feeling that had subsided momentarily had suddenly welled up in her again as Godric's sword had been pried free of her grip. The wound on her calf pulsed. Brutally, she forced the feeling aside, trying to pour all her focus into the battle.

The blast from Lucius never came. Eyes wide, she saw Draco dive back into his room as his father's beam blasted away a piece of the doorframe where he had been standing moments earlier. Draco stumbled to the ground, but managed to stay in a sitting position, and was still within sight of Buffy, as she had sprawled just outside his door.

The dementor, now completely aflame, took one more step toward her before collapsing on the floor. Buffy was hardly breathing easier, however; Lucius and his one remaining dementor were still there, and unless she could get back to her sword …

_"Accio sword!"_ Lucius chanted. The sword of Gryffindor pulled free of the dementor's corpse in which it still rested and floated down the hall towards the smirking Death Eater.

"No!" Buffy cried. She could feel the golden light in her eyes beginning to fade, and the cuts and burns she had sustained in the fight were beginning to take their toll on her.

_"Reparo,"_ she heard Draco's voice chant from within his room. _Reparo?! What the hell is he fixing?!_ she wondered, and she nearly involuntarily turned to look what he was doing when a scream distracted her.

As the sword of Gryffindor settled into Lucius' hands, there was a sizzling hiss, and Lucius gave a scream of pain and dropped the Founder's blade, as well as his own wand.

"Didn't like you, huh?" Buffy challenged. "Can't say I blame it."

"It doesn't matter," Lucius hissed, rubbing his wrist. His anger was breaking free of his control. "You'll still never get to it." He motioned the dementor next to him forward.

"Buffy!!" Draco's voice cried from within his room urgently. Buffy's head jerked up. That was not the despairing cry of someone defeated, or witnessing someone dying. She swung her head and torso around to look, and her left hand jerked up as she saw something flying at her face. She caught it.

It was her wand.

A surge of power ran through her body as her fingers closed around it, and there was a rushing sound like a stiff wind blowing through the corridor that was almost identical to the sensation she had felt at Ollivander's. But there was more; there was music on the wind like a full military band playing for an army marching to battle, and the wand blazed at her touch with a pinwheel of red and gold light like that which had so recently burned in her eyes.

The dementor behind Lucius had only taken two steps forward as Buffy suddenly propelled herself to her feet, spreading her legs to give her as much balance as she could. Lucius' hand was only just closing about his wand again.

The red feeling rose from within her chest and swept across her vision again, this time so quickly and forcefully that she had no time to react or resist, a massive deluge behind an already weakened dam. She focused all her attention on control. She was in control. She was in command. She had been waiting for this moment for longer than she could remember.

_"IMPERIO!"_ she shouted, driving her wand forward and sending a wave of power down the hall.

_"Protego!"_ Lucius shouted desperately, wheeling his wand around.

"Buffy, NO!" Draco cried from within his room.

There was utter silence for a few stunned moments. Even the dementor, now level with Lucius, had stopped moving. Buffy could feel more than see Draco out of the corner of her eye, approaching the door of his room hesitantly. The only sound she could hear was that of her own breathing.

A smile crossed Lucius' face a moment later, however. "Weak, Slayer, weak. The Great Curses are not to be used lightly."

"Buffy …" Draco managed. "I'm sure he deserves worse, but …"

"I know."

Something in her voice gave both Lucius and Draco pause. Their was a finality in it, which was only augmented by the wrathful vermeil burning in her eyes. It was a death sentence.

Suddenly, Lucius gave a startled cry as bony, cadaverous hands gripped him around the torso. The dementor next to him had lowered its hood. The cry turned to a terrifying, bloodcurdling shriek as the dementor's mouth pressed to the lips of Draco's father. Even though Lucius' mouth was covered, the shriek was somehow not cut short. Instead, it died away even as Lucius' face craned skyward in a grotesque rictus, as though the Death Eater were falling away into a bottomless abyss.

"He only felt the fringe of it," Buffy explained as she watched it happen. "He was never the target."

Silence fell as Buffy finished speaking. Draco's mouth was agape. Buffy's eyes suddenly widened, and the flame faded from them. "Oh God," she gasped suddenly, as the primal Slayer's rage faded and the enormity of what she had done came crashing back down on her. _What happened? What came over me?_

Then Draco was there, his arms encircling her from behind and cradling her. As though the last cords that had held her upright had been severed, she collapsed into his arms. The pain that her rage and adrenaline had been holding at bay returned with a vengeance. Her restored wand fell from her hand as she clutched onto Draco as best she could.

"Draco … I'm so sorry … your father …"

She felt him tense. A moment later, a mirthless laugh shook his throat.

He let go of her with one arm and pointed his wand down the corridor. _"Mobilixifus,"_ he chanted. Godric's sword suddenly sprang to life and floated into the air, skewering the last dementor, whose mouth was still pressed to Lucius' throat. One last soundless shriek filled the hallway, then was gone.

"Draco …"

"All you did is succeed where I failed."

"He was …"

"He kept me locked in the Chamber for months. He was going to kill me next week, after he had been inaugurated in my place. His master killed my mother, and he didn't even care, as long as he could get his property back. The Ministry would have given him the Kiss themselves if you'd got him alive—if the dementors hadn't rebelled, anyway."

"Still …"

"The game is always the most bitter between family."

"Draco, not that stupid game ag …"

"And he hurt you." Draco had been leaning forward so that he was now whispering in her ear, and there so was so much emotion there that it cut Buffy's protest off in mid-sentence. "He used to visit me down in the Chamber, once a week, sometimes twice, just to tell me some of the things he was doing to you and hint at worse, enjoying how helpless I was to do anything."

"Draco, I …"

"Shh," Draco cut her off. "Come on. Let's get you inside."

"No … Willow …"

"You're in no shape to fight," Draco pointed out.

"I'm a Slayer," Buffy retorted. "I'm always in shape to fight." She reached down and clutched her wand with her left hand. _"Accio sword,"_ she chanted. The Sword of Gryffindor slid out of the dementor's corpse and along the floor, sailing the last few yards back to her outstretched hand.

"Gaa!" a gasp escaped her lips as the hilt settled into her hand again. Before, the sword had helped her block out the pain of the wounds she had sustained and the effects of the dementors; now, somehow, it had gone to sleep again, and the legendary sword was now a dead weight in her wounded hand.

"Come on," Draco said, slipping one arm behind her knees and other behind her back as he lifted her from the floor. He carried her quickly back into his chambers and laid her out on the couch in the sitting room, a concerned look on his face as he noted the blood that spilled on his clothes and couch as he did so. She was already too weak to resist strongly as he took her sword and wand from her and laid them on the coffee table.

_"Accio brooms," _he chanted, waving his wand into the hallway. His own Skyfire and the Nimbus 2001 hopped back through the door. A moment later, he chanted _"Mobiliportus"_ to close the door and, then, finally, _"Colloportus."_ The door was sealed.

"Draco …"

"Shh," Draco said quickly. _"Panacea minor."_

Buffy felt a little bit of life flow back into her limbs, and the bleeding slowed. She started to sit up, but Draco gently pushed her back down on the couch. There was a look of wonder, as well as more than a touch of respect, in his eyes.

"I have no idea how you're still conscious," he said, "and you may be a … a Slayer … but neither of us are in any shape to take on Him."

Buffy gritted her teeth. He was right, but she was still not about to quit while she could still walk. Of course, at the moment, she couldn't walk, but that wasn't the point. Willow was still in trouble. As if to emphasize the point, another rumble shook the stone and wood of the manor around them.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry it's been so long since the last update! No, I haven't abandoned this fic. My writing computer has been disconnected from the Internet for a while, so I had to wait until a good opportunity to transfer the files over and upload.

P.S. I know what Buffy did might have been a touch out of character there. Patience.

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed Chapter 44 (even if that was so long ago now you've forgotten you did)!

_Shabopo:_ ironic that I updated the last ones so quickly, all things considered.

_ShadowElfBard:_ I know. I'd be a Slytherin if I were in Hogwarts. Much too evil to be anywhere else. ;-)

_IceBlueRose:_ Thanks for the props, and glad you enjoyed it (even if it did mean a bit of lost sleep …); appropriate if you came from one of _DragonKatGal's_ fics, since I've lost more than enough sleep reading hers.

_Seoid: _I know, I usually can't stand Buffy and Harry either. Minor characters are generally more fun. (Hence the general Willow-centrism of this fic.) But Buffy and Harry have their better sides as well.

_PhoebeOtaku: _Wish I could hear you talk to your roommate. British accents are definitely spiffy. (Smashing, baby!)

_NixiNox:_ The Tara element is definitely one of the things I didn't focus on as much. There just wasn't much of a way to fit her in. I thought of somehow writing her in as a ghost that had ended up at Hogwarts, but that would have required a whole plotline in and of itself.

Additional shout outs to _Blondi Gurl, Draco's Slytherin Vampiress, BIGHARRYFAN, becky, lazybones, Silver Warrior, DragonStar, kms, Morena Evensong _(even if you do think the chandelier bit was cliché!), _pamie884, ShawThang, Marion, Malaika Pyralis, narmolanya, Chaotic reign, fabala, _and _Raclswt._ Thanks for your support!

** Coming Soon:** Chapter 46, "Branches of the Tree." The lesser battles are out of the way. Willow vs. Voldemort is up next. I promise I'll update more quickly than last time.

** Sneak Preview:**

_ "What's wrong?" Voldemort taunted. "You didn't come all this way only to back down now, did you?"_


	46. Branches of the Tree

** DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

** SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

** CHAPTER 46:**

** BRANCHES OF THE TREE**

"Neither am I."

The echoes of the Dark Lord's mocking statement hung in the air for a few brief seconds, then died away. Still neither of the two moved from where they stood gazing at each other across nearly the entire length of the ancestral throne room of the Malfoy lords.

"What's wrong?" Voldemort taunted her. "You didn't come all this way only to back down now, did you?"

Willow's face remained neutral for another few seconds as she allowed that remark to die in the air as well.

Then, between one heartbeat and the next, she struck. Her expression never flickered, and she did not chant or even raise her wand; her attack came completely without warning. A stream of fire coruscated forth from the depths of her eyes, arching across the hall to where the Dark Lord stood.

The flames struck an invisible wall around the Dark Lord, and the roar of the flames was drowned by the roar of Voldemort's laughter.

Voldemort countered with a shower of shards of ice. Willow coldly held up her left hand, and a glow appeared in her palm. The ice shards melted and vaporized as they passed through a mass of superheated air only a few yards from Willow.

The battle was on.

Willow took advantage of the cloud of steam that Voldemort had conveniently provided.

_"Praestigia corpi!"_ she shouted. What emerged from the cloud was then not one form of the redheaded wiccan, but twelve, all sailing through the air towards the Dark Lord. As she flew, she built up her power within herself for her next attack.

"Good try!" Voldemort snapped, aiming a blast of fire straight at Willow's face. She swatted it aside with her hand, but the illusionary forms of her winked out.

Willow was not finished, however. She grabbed the tail end of Voldemort's blast of fire with her left hand, gripping it as though it were solid. With a snarl, she swung it around, molding it as she did so until the flame had been molded into a flaming whip, which whirled and hissed as she snapped it towards the Dark Lord.

_"Finite!"_ Voldemort snapped as the tip of the whip closed on him. The whip shattered into fragments of flame scattering in all directions, but Willow let go of it at the last minute before her molding spell snapped, so she was not burnt. In addition, she had crossed nearly the entire distance between herself and Voldemort; she was at the base of the dais now. She flexed her knees briefly, then sprang forward and skyward. She had cast the same spell she had used to make herself as strong as a Slayer back in Sunnydale, and she closed on Voldemort with the speed of a striking snake, her left fist streaking for Voldemort's jaw.

Suddenly, her fist connected with flesh, but not that which she was aiming for. Voldemort had caught her fist in his hand, his reflexes every bit as snakelike as Willow's. His grip was like a steel vise, as well. Willow's arm jarred from the force of her arrested impact.

_"Concussimi,"_ Voldemort chanted.

Willow's eyes barely had time to widen before the impact of Voldemort's detonation struck her at point-blank range. Off-balance as she was, she was thrown backward and into the air, arching high towards one of the pillars.

_"Ethereate!"_ she cried. Her body became translucent an instant before she would have been crushed against the marble, and she sailed through the pillar like a ghost, landing and rematerializing beyond the row of columns a moment later with the pillar in between her and Voldemort.

"Did you think I was so accustomed to using magic I had forgotten the feeling of battle with flesh and bone?" Voldemort laughed.

Willow gathered her power with a scream and swept her wand before her in a wide arc. There was a thunderous rumble of tearing stone as the middle of the pillar tore free and sailed across the room towards Voldemort. Voldemort laughed again, leapt high into the air and forward, and came down on the pillar in mid-flight. From there, he sprang high into the air again, nearly to the ceiling, and began descending towards Willow, a sword appearing from within his robes as he did so.

Eyes blazing, Willow did not wait for his attack, but leapt to greet him, a red-gold sword of flame appearing in her hands as she leapt. They were still at least fifteen feet from the ground as they passed each other, and a flash and a roar like thunder announced the meeting of their blades. Willow's sword shattered at the impact, but she and Voldemort were already past one another. Voldemort's blade held, and left a small crater in the floor as he struck a moment later.

Willow alighted atop the dais, her eyes narrowing as she turned to look at Voldemort's sword. It was not metal. It looked more like bone, and it was curved, a katana.

"Dragon's fang," she observed icily.

"Himalayan Elder," Voldemort confirmed with a grin. Willow's eyes narrowed again. Dragons were naturally incredibly resistant to magic, and the elder wyrms of the subcontinent were among the most potent in the world. He would be able to tear apart any weapons of pure magic she made with that. Of course, she could always make more, but that would drain her eventually.

She flicked her wand at the glowing fragments of the pillar scattered across the hall, and a shower of stone shards leapt across the room at Voldemort.

With an equally effortless flick of his own wand, Voldemort conjured a wall of earth in front of himself, blocking the attack.

Willow's eyes narrowed as she felt a disturbance in the air behind her, then widened. She could feel the wards still active, but there was no mistaking what the Dark Lord was doing. Without even turning around to give warning that she had realized what he was doing, she pointed her wand backward over her shoulder.

_"Pugna zephyra,"_ she hissed. A series of staccato bursts filled the air as fists of wind lashed out from the tip of her wand, driving the Dark Lord backward just as he appeared behind her on the dais. He finally managed to steady himself only a step before he would have toppled over the side of the dais.

Willow helped him the rest of the way, aiming a Reductor at the stone at Voldemort's feet. The side of the dais crumbled, and Voldemort toppled backward, five feet downward to the main floor of the Hall. He was on his feet a moment later, but Willow had already sent another barrage of the Fists of the West Wind in his direction. He was driven backward another few steps until he finally managed to slice through the fabric of one of the bursts with his dragon-fang sword, breaking the spell.

Willow's eyes narrowed. That sword was going to get annoying.

_"Electro!"_ Voldemort barked, and a bolt of lightning leapt from the end of his wand.

_"Magneto!"_ Willow countered, conjuring a magnetic field in front of her that bent the lightning bolt aside and sent it right into the throne, blasting the high back off the chair. Voldemort had accomplished what he wanted, however. He had bought himself enough time to Apparate again; Willow had no idea how he was able to Apparate within these wards, but it was giving him an incredible advantage. If her senses had been any less keen, she would have had no idea where he was moving.

She turned and aimed another fire bolt at where Voldemort was appearing, then another as he tried to Apparate again too quickly for her to follow. She grinned at the frustrated expression on his face as he appeared the second time only to meet a fire bolt heading straight for him; there was no time to Apparate again, and he was forced to hold still and shield her attack; she had made her point. He would think twice before trying that again.

"What's wrong, Mr. Mort?" she jibed. "Pet trick didn't work?"

"Oh, it worked just beautifully against your friend," Voldemort answered casually. "But I should have known …" he cut off to deflect a furious blast of fire with his sword.

"Dear, dear, temper, temper," he chided as the flames abated.

Willow took a deep breath to steady herself. She was not going to let her fury get the better of her. She was not going to let him goad her. Methodically, she forced her shoulders back and down, forced the muscles in her chest to relax. Then she extended her left hand, calmly knocking aside another lightning bolt from Voldemort with the wand in her right.

With her hand aloft, snapped her fingers.

A blast like a thousand Howitzers reverberated through the hall from her hand. The ground shook, and the four nearest pillars cracked, splinters gouged loose by the force of the impact. Every window in the hall was blown outward, and the wards on them as well. Rain drove through windows on the north side, and the wind of the storm outside suddenly roared in the hall.

Voldemort barely flinched; he backed up a step at the force of the impact, but then braced himself and buffered himself against the shockwave.

"Quite a noise," he taunted. "All bark and no bite?"

Willow grinned as an orange spark came into view in the sky outside, just parting the overhanging clouds. "Oh, I bite," she said, and she launched another stream of flame at Voldemort, this time a wide blast seeking to engulf him.

He blocked it on the flat of his blade, and it parted and scattered rather than wrapping around it to engulf the Dark Lord, but Willow's grin, had Voldemort been able to see it, was triumphant. His sword was pinned, and the cone of flame blocked his view for a brief second.

_"Protego!"_ she screamed as the meteorite sailed through the window at her. There was a flash as Willow's spell made impact, then the meteor bounced away as though she had struck it with an immense baseball bat.

She bounced it straight at the sword in Voldemort's hands.

Caught off guard, and still pinned down by the tail end of the cone of flame, Voldemort had no time to move. However, he had his wand in his other hand.

_"Protego!"_ he cried, so quickly that the word was barely recognizable.

_"Finite!"_ Willow snapped at the same instant, targeting not Voldemort, but his Shield Charm, channeling an enormous amount of power into it to speed it across the room faster than the meteorite.

The meteorite, Voldemort's sword, Voldemort's Shield Charm, and Willow's counter-charm all impacted at the same instant. The stress created another riving detonation in the atmosphere, and a cloud of meteoric dust filled the space where Voldemort had been standing. A split-second later, another detonation shook the atmosphere from within that cloud of dust, this time accompanied by a blinding eruption of green-white light. Willow was already grinning as the wind billowing through the hall cleared away the cloud of dust, revealing Voldemort getting up from the ground against the great front doors of the manor. The hilt of his sword was all that was left of it in his hands. There was a look of mixed curiosity and surprise in his slitted eyes.

"Magnificent," he breathed as he straightened.

Willow took another deep breath. That last combination of spells had taken a lot out of her, and the only thing that saved her was the fact that they had taken a great deal, perhaps even more, out of the Dark Lord as well. He was making no hurried moves to press his attack, at any rate; he was on his feet by the time the dust cleared, but he was clearly breathing heavily as well.

"I learn quickly," she grated.

"So I've heard, dear Willow. I would expect no less."

"I'm not really all with the caring what you expect," Willow said.

"Ah, but you should," Voldemort said. "Knowing your enemies' expectations is one of the greatest advantages in the Game."

"Yeah, I was never all for the getting involved with this whole Game thing, either," Willow seethed.

"Do you sincerely believe that?" Voldemort asked insinuatingly. "I suppose it shouldn't be too much of a surprise." There was a knowing note in his voice.

Willow gave a level stare in response.

"The Game binds us all, Willow. Especially us, here. Everything you touch, everyone you meet, will be drawn in. It is our fate. That is who we are."

"You have no idea who I am."

"Do you, then?"

Willow gave Voldemort another stony stare, more piercing than her last, meeting the Dark Lord's slitted eyes without blinking. The insinuating note in his voice had gotten stronger, and despite the fatigue in his voice, she could see excitement and anticipation in his eyes, as though he had been looking forward to this for a long time.

"I'm just a girl," she said flatly.

"Taking life in stride, as always." Voldemort sighed. "Ah, dear Willow, you were never 'just a girl.' Have you never wondered how it is that you grew to such power in Sunnydale in only four years? That you were so able to absorb the Dark Arts … literally, when you chose? That you were able to sense the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets? That the Potter boy can sense you, like me, through his scar? That the language of the serpents comes unbidden to your lips? That it was _my_ wand, forged by my own hands to be so like my own, that chose you?"

A dark suspicion was beginning to blossom in the back of Willow's mind. "What are you getting at?" she demanded, the ice in her voice showing signs of thawing for the first time.

"Have you ever wondered why your parents raised you so strictly? Why they were so overprotective? Why they never wanted you to leave Sunnydale, despite all the strange things that always happened there? Particularly your mother?"

"I don't think that's any of your business!" Willow shouted angrily. _They just wanted to be good Jewish parents,_ she thought, trying to banish the thought, to refuse to allow Voldemort to distract her, but the thoughts were flying unbidden to her mind._ That's all. Mom had trouble being accepted as a kid. We never really talked about it._

"Did you ever notice that they seemed to have no idea what to do with you? One moment interested in everything you were doing, the next moment leaving you on your own for a week at a time?"

"They were trying!" The words were forced from Willow's lips.

"Indeed they were," Voldemort agreed. "Far more than my own Muggle father did when he found out that my mother was a witch. A _freak,_ he called her before turning us out on our own."

"Oh, spare me the troubled family story," Willow spat.

"With pleasure," Voldemort replied, "but you must have wondered, nonetheless."

"I think I'd know my own family."

"Would you indeed? Then you have probably accepted, of course, that your mother was so strict because she is the daughter of a convert. Jewish lineage is passed through the mother. She always felt she had something to prove."

He'd been checking on her parents. The back of Willow's eyes burned. There was no way she could deny what he was saying; if he knew that Grandma Amy had been a convert, his sources were good. "Voldemort, if you've done anything to hurt them …"

Voldemort laughed. "Little Sheila is a true Muggle, a true daughter of her father Isaac. Almost none of the proud blood flows in her veins. I have no interest in her. Though, had she taken after her mother, finding you might have been much easier."

"Her mother? Wait, Grandma Amy?"

Voldemort gave the most predatory grin Willow had seen him give yet. "I knew her as Aunt Amoret. Her birth name was Amoret Phoebe Marvolo, second and youngest daughter of my grandfather, Julius."

She could almost hear the Bloody Baron laughing at her. _You'll find the Game is hard to escape._

"You begin to see, yes? Your grandmother harbored the same aversion to the Game that you do—indeed, to the entire wizarding world. She was looking for something else to absorb herself in, for something to provide her with another identity, to take her as far away from her old life as possible, and the orthodox religion of her Muggle husband gave her that. Her only child—an accident, born late in life when she thought she was past pregnancy—was a Muggle as well, and they moved to Sunnydale, the magical no-man's-land where even wizards are harder than normal to sense. As far as I could tell, she had vanished from the face of the Earth. Until recently, I thought her dead."

"No," Willow whispered.

"But, dear Willow, the Game will not be denied, and the blood of Slytherin may sleep, but it never dies. It reawakened in you the instant you were conceived on a Dark Node—a Hellmouth. And, last spring, when you touched a shade of the fullness of your power, I felt what I had never expected to feel again—the power of another Marvolo at work."

Willow shook her head numbly. _No._ She couldn't even sound the word again.

"From that moment, I knew that this day would be inevitable. The curse of the Marvolo line is inescapable. Blood against blood, family against family, power and loneliness both so vast that mortals have never devised words great enough to describe them. It is such that my mother, Malecasta Marvolo, and your grandmother both married Muggles and attempted to flee the wizarding world entirely to avoid it. Yet, to no avail, as here we are."

"Stop." Willow's voice was a faint croak.

"By now you certainly know that I am the Heir of Slytherin. But did you ever stop to ponder who was second in line? Perhaps you fancied yourself some kind of heroine coming here, coming to slay the dastardly villain and save the damsel in distress? Don't flatter yourself. You can never run far enough to escape the Game, nor hide from your own blood, nor fight against the darkness we all carry. Like quicksand, the more you struggle, the more it will pull you in. You have tasted the darkness and power that have made me what I am today. You can defeat me and take the title of Heir of Slytherin for yourself, or it can fall on your shoulders whether you would have it or not. But you are a Marvolo, Willow, and always will be. The Game is your past, present, and future."

_"NO!"_ Willow shrieked. Her back arched, and a bolt of pure red fury burst forth from her outstretched hands.

Voldemort's form blurred and became smoky for a moment, and he drifted aside, solidifying again a moment later.

_This can't be true!_ Willow screamed into the silence of her mind, matching Voldemort's tactic to dodge his counterattack. Then, a moment later, _Why can't I concentrate?_

_ What's going on?_

She could not force Voldemort's words out of her head, could not force herself to concentrate. Somehow, his words continued to echo in her mind as if given a life of their own, despite the fact that Voldemort himself was in the same room with her, which should have driven everything else from her mind.

A moment later, an image of Tara flashed across her consciousness. A moment after that, it was followed by the memory of driving a car careening out of control into a wall with her best friend's little sister in the passenger seat. She suddenly became aware of the faint touch of cold on her exposed flesh, a cold that had nothing to do with the temperature of the air, which had been thoroughly heated by fire and lightning by now.

She turned to see cloaked figures slowly emerging like animated corpses from alcoves along the walls, and more appearing on the second floor balcony, coming in from the exterior balcony overlooking the main entrance of the manor. All the mental guards she had built up were fraying and dissolving; she tried to think of … someone … but the thought wasn't there.

"When Tara fell," Voldemort put a touch like a caress on that name, "you began to stir. But you did not come into your own, not until you attacked those worthless fools you called your friends and absorbed the lore that truly reawakened your blood. We both know that never died when you were stopped at Kingman's Bluff. It's still in you. Show us that, Willow. Show us who you really are again."

Somewhere deep within the whirlpool of darkness that was swallowing her, the part of Willow that was still herself began to scream.

---------------------

High in the archway leading into the Hall of Wisdom along the second-floor balcony, Harry Potter watched, transfixed. He had thought to get involved, but he was drained, and had needed to disperse a squad of dementors in the hallway en route to this place. The fireworks of the last few minutes had made Dumbledore's duel with Voldemort look like a child's show. He would have been incinerated before he got anywhere near enough to Voldemort to use anything to invoke _Priori Incantatem._

"Willow …" he whispered desperately as he felt the dementors beginning to appear. His voice was a croak.

He began to inch his way forward from his hiding place, desperate to do something. Suddenly, however, he stopped and leapt back into the cover of the door with a strangled cry.

His scar was burning, burning like it had after Dumbledore had driven Voldemort from the Department of Mysteries, burning so that Harry was amazed that there wasn't smoke curling up from his forehead. His hands clenched uselessly on the archway, barely keeping him from falling. Images, thoughts that were not his, flashed across his consciousness again for the first time in months. One was an image of his girlfriend standing on the dais below, seen through the eyes of the Dark Lord. But there was another, a thought that could not be Voldemort's. It was an image of the Dark Lord, seen from nearly at floor level. His eyes widened in horror as he realized whose thought that was.

A change was coming over the slender redheaded girl down on the floor below. Voldemort had not lowered his wand, and it was clear that he still expected to fight, but the expression on his face was somehow already one of victory. A pinwheel of velvet shadow and baleful violet light erupted at Willow's feet and curled up to embrace her. Her clothing transfigured into a somber black ensemble, regal and elegant but dark and lifeless. The lustrous red faded from her hair, replaced by a deep abyssal ebon that went well beyond black; it absorbed light, blending into a streaming field of shadow. There was a subtle change in her posture. When she spoke, her voice was suddenly cold and unfamiliar.

"So you enjoy games, do you, my lord?" she asked.

Voldemort raised his wand in salute before leveling it at her again. "Welcome back, Countess Marvolo."

"Then let the games begin."

"WILLOW!!" Harry's desperate cry was drowned out by the earth-shattering impact as Willow and Voldemort launched themselves at each other again.

* * *

** A/N:** Uh-oh ... Even Darker Willow's back! To preempt any confusion: remember, there were two levels of "Dark Willow" in S6, one right after Tara got shot, and another 'Even Darker' level after she sucked up all the black magic books in the Magic Box. (Though I added onto that in the description this time. One of the good things about writing ... the special effects budget is measured in imagination, not dollars.) 

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed! They really make all this worth it (since the pay isn't quite as rosy as it is for the original authors). And, to be nice, I'll even include the rather unflattering review from "John" in that. Always nice to have a few critics. They make life interesting. :-) So I'll start there:

_John:_ You say that Buffy wouldn't regret the death of Lucius at all (basically that she should have killed him), but Buffy's always drawn the line at killing human beings. That's why she and Faith were on opposite sides after Faith killed the Deputy Mayor.

_Chaotic reign, SnowyOwl-17, pamie884, IceBlueRose, Silver Warrior:_ Thanks for the props on the battle scene writing, those have always been some of my favorites to write. (Typical male, I know.) ;-)

_pamie884:_ I hadn't really thought about spending a whole lot of time on the background of the sword; I just thought that Godric Gryffindor's weapons ought to have some powers that a second-year student (even a Gryffindor destined for great things) simply couldn't handle, and which the sword would therefore not let him use. A ticked-off Slayer with Buffy's experience and survival record, however, would likely be a completely different story.

_DUH Rocker Girl:_ Sorry to hear that about your computer. That really sucks. Nevertheless, welcome back, and glad you found this again!

_ShadowElfBard:_ Um ... what exactly does this 'potty dance' look like ... or do I not want to know?

** COMING SOON:** Chapter 47, "Words of the Serpent and Lion." Voldemort has brought World-Ending Willow back, and both still have a lot of fight left in them. Also, Harry finally becomes more than a spectator, and we'll see one more incarnation of Willow. Would hate to give too much away.

** SNEAK PREVIEW:**

It was strange the things that peril could make someone admit to themselves.

_ His last cry had finally attracted Voldemort's attention, however, as the Dark Lord's baleful gaze swung and fell on him across the length of the balcony. "YOU!" he snarled._


	47. Words of the Serpent and Lion

** DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling. I'm not making any money off this; in fact, if I didn't do this, I could probably get better grades and make more money someday.

** SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

** CHAPTER 47:**

** WORDS OF THE SERPENT AND LION**

The preternatural thunderstorm and meteor shower were beginning to abate and the sky above Malfoy Manor was beginning to clear. The summer sun was finally below the horizon, and the silvery moon, only a day past the full, was beginning to peek its face once again through the parting stormclouds. Frightened villagers in the hamlet of Salazar's Crossing began to peek out of their shops and houses once again, and an awed crowd began to assemble at the foot of the long hill leading up to their liege's manor. Clouds of dust hung in the air atop the hill, and the manor's massive glass windows had been blown outward; light blazed within like a star struggling to come to life in a whirling nebula.

Deep within that cloud, Countess Marvolo and the Heir of Slytherin were locked in a clash of titans.

A comet of violet-blue light leapt from Willow's outstretched hand, only to be swallowed by the swirling of the Dark Lord's tenebrous cape. Voldemort countered with a shockwave that sent fragments of stone hurtling at the raven-haired sorceress; Willow melted the fragments in mid-flight and melded them into the shape of a wyvern, sending the magma creature sailing back at the serpentine sorcerer. Voldemort pointed his wand at the ground, and the stone split as a wall of dry ice burst skyward to block the fiery automaton's path. There was a roar and a hiss of steam as the superheated rock met the bitter cold, and a fierce wind blew out in all directions from their meeting. If Willow or Voldemort felt it, however, they gave no sign.

Back and forth the battle raged, while the dementors huddled against the walls, doing their best to duck as stray bolts and fragments of stone and conjury fell among them.

Harry Potter, half-concealed at the entrance to the great hall that ran along the balcony ringing the hall at the level of the second floor, looked on with wide-eyed fascination even as the scar on his forehead burned like a hot poker. His teeth were gritted, but the spectacle below would not permit him to avert his eyes. He had thought he had seen what she was capable of when the dementors had surprised them with their bold, public attack at the Atlantis restaurant. He was only beginning to understand how much of an underestimation that had been.

Which brought one burning question to the surface of his mind. _Why did he bring this out of her?_ It wasn't in Voldemort's character to seek more powerful opponents; he could hold his own against Dumbledore but never sought out the aged wizard. The Dark Lord wasn't doing this for thrills. Voldemort had not once attempted the Killing Curse, and Harry had no illusions about Voldemort's willingness to use such a spell on a member of his own family, even if what he had said about Willow's lineage was true.

Several minutes passed—perhaps only two, but it seemed like longer—and the intensity of the battle began to abate again as the two combatants began to tire again.

A cloudy shadow blurred to the dais, just behind the ruined throne, and resolved into the figure of Willow. She held her wand in a perfect fencer's stance, but she was not pressing her attack. Voldemort appeared a moment later, coalescing from a dark cloud on the second floor balcony at the far end of the hall, just in front of the door that led onto the observation balcony outside.

"Not done already, are you?" Willow challenged.

"You know better," Voldemort answered. "Are you?"

"What you said," Willow returned.

"You're learning."

"Yeah, don'tcha just hate that?"

Voldemort's smile was amused. "Hardly, Willow, hardly. If anything, I regret that you've learned so little."

"Ooh, the 'rank, arrogant amateur' speech. I've had that one before."

"Not an amateur, Willow. But that doesn't mean you don't have a lot left to learn."

"There's a decent library where I come from."

"Indeed," Voldemort agreed, "but not the greatest. Search yourself, Willow, you know you're beyond that. None of the Founders save Godric ever sent their greatest secrets to the school. Slytherin never trusted the others, and the others never trusted him."

"Imagine."

"Of course," Voldemort continued. "But they left ways by which their successors could uncover their deepest secrets."

"You going somewhere with this?"

"I am knocking on the doors of unlocking Slytherin's greatest mysteries. Every week, I am closer. With them, Dumbledore and his fools will never be able to stand against me, not even in the school. Hogwarts will fall. There is still time for you to decide what side of the gate you wish to be on when the inevitable comes to pass."

In the shadows of the balcony, Harry gasped, but Willow didn't even flinch. "First you try to kill me, then you offer me a job?"

"Have I been trying to kill you?"

"Looked pretty convincing to me."

"You know better. I was never aiming to kill. The blood of Salazar is not cheaply spilt."

"Hmm."

"Look around you, Willow. Look at yourself." The Dark Lord pointed his wand at the floor, and Willow tensed again, but Voldemort merely transfigured the surface of the dais into a mirror, allowing Willow to see her appearance. "They'll never accept you back now. The Aurors will have you in irons within an hour. Frightened peasants will demand that their sons and daughters not be placed in _danger_ ... meaning anywhere near you. Is that what you want? To go back and be just another lackey of that fool Dumbledore, even while his other lackeys cringe at the mere sight of you?"

"Heard he cleaned your clock a few months ago."

Voldemort's eyes flashed, but he kept his voice level. "He did," he admitted painfully. "But that Muggle-loving fool's star is setting, and will not ascend again. Meanwhile, I grow with every passing week, even without the key to the lore of Slytherin."

"Yet I don't remember him abducting my allies."

"The Slayer is unharmed; indeed, she may be more potent than ever. One does not throw away such a precious asset, especially one whose nature is more to our cause than theirs."

"Meaning?"

"The power of the Slayer is rooted in darkness. She has no more business working for Dumbledore than you."

"Aw, and here I thought you did it all for me."

Voldemort grinned mirthlessly. "Oh, I might have," he admitted. "But I now know she has far more potential than I had imagined. I have been refining and tempering her over the past few weeks while I waited for this moment. I have great things in store for her. Indeed, Salazar hid some of his secrets in a place where your ally is one of the few who can tread."

Willow's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "The dreamworld."

"Indeed."

"And my other allies?"

"Would not have been harmed had they not followed you here. Perhaps they still live; heirs of the great families do not die easily within their own demesnes, and the Potter boy has a remarkable ability to avoid death."

Willow grinned. "He takes after you."

Voldemort's eyes burned. "Vexingly so." He was clearly keeping his voice tightly controlled.

Willow was silent for a moment, and Harry's eyes widened. They didn't know he was there. He had assumed that they had to have seen or sensed him somehow, but there didn't seem to be any faking from either of them. They were too intent on each other to know that he was there—and it sounded like Voldemort didn't know that Draco had succeeded at rescuing Buffy, either.

A steely look entered his eyes, even as the pain from his scar and the cold of the dementors continued to eat away at him. Voldemort was not omniscient. Anything that was not omniscient could be fought. He began to reach back in time to what little he had gained from his aborted Occlumency lessons from Snape, even as his attention never left the two combatants facing each other across the length of the cavernous hall, and his fingers began to relax about the base of his wand again.

"Forgive me if I'm still a little skeptical of why you're giving this to me."

Voldemort grinned. "Even after all this," he said with a gesture around the room, "you still underappreciate your own worth. And … giving? Willow, you should know me better. I am giving you nothing. The power of Slytherin is your birthright. I am only revealing the opportunity to claim it."

"Still."

"Listen to your wand, Willow. _Feel_ it. It has guided you to this. It knows. You know you cannot run from this. The Game will not let you. It has never been kind to Marvolos who deny their birthright—nor their families, nor their friends. It will control you, if you do not learn to control it … and I am the only one who can show you how. Without my help, the burden will only grow as your power waxes, and you have only begun to test the limits of your potential. Dumbledore and his camp followers can offer you nothing, can teach you nothing. All they will do is keep you from realizing who you really are. I have brought you closer to that in the last hour than they have in the past season. Salazar himself used to duel with his greatest protégés, knowing nothing less could bring out the true power of their bloodlines. You are the Countess Willow Marvolo, and by birthright and by potence, your place is here." Voldemort held out his right hand by his side.

Willow took a slow, almost unconscious, step forward.

"NO!" Harry screamed, lurching forward into the room, scraping together all of his meager knowledge of Occlumency just to fight off the pain in his scar and the chilling effect of the dementors below. Their combined force hit him in the head like a hammer as he came fully into the room again, but all he could think of was that Willow would be lost forever if she took even one more step in Voldemort's direction. He had no idea what he was going to do, couldn't even scrape together enough seconds of rational thought to form a plan, but he had already sat and watched one loved one be lost forever. He would never do that again.

Loved one.

_The force behind the most powerful countercurse._

_ If … for any reason, Willow might be about to do something foolish, I think it would certainly not be me that would have the best chance of stopping her._

It was strange the things that peril could make someone admit to themselves.

His last cry had finally attracted Voldemort's attention, however, as the Dark Lord's baleful gaze swung and fell on him across the length of the balcony. "YOU!" he snarled.

Harry quickly held up his wand, reminding Voldemort of the risk of getting into a _Priori Incantatem_ contest of wills. The young wizard's mind was racing—that part of it that was still functioning, anyway. _I need to get to her. Just for a minute. Just for a second._ But there was no way he would get there on his broom; any one of the detonations Willow and Voldemort had been setting off as easily as snapping their fingers would have thrown him the moment he left the ground.

His eyes widened. He knew another way. Draco had unknowingly let him know about it. _But can I pull it off …?_

"Good try!" Voldemort barked. _"Reducto!"_ With a lurch in his stomach, Harry realized that Voldemort had not aimed for him directly. He had aimed for the stone arch above his head. There was a terrific cracking sound, and then a shower of stone was bearing down on him. There was no time to dodge. He reacted instinctively.

_"Apparito!"_

Countess Marvolo spared a glance out of the corner of one eye for the new arrival that had distracted Voldemort.

_Harry!_

She quelched the thought immediately. Where had that sentimental burst come from? There was no time in the thick of a duel for such distractions, especially from the side of her that was unprotected from the effects of the dementors lining the walls.

She tensed for a moment as she felt Voldemort building power for a spell to send after the new arrival, hoping that he would overextend himself and leave her an opening. A moment later, her lips compressed in a tight grin. A simple Reductor, almost effortless, sparing almost none of his attention. She knew that she shouldn't have expected him to do anything so careless; he had not earned his status in the Great Game by luck, after all.

_"Apparito!"_ she heard the boy on the balcony cry. Willow's eyes raised, and she instinctively sent her awareness out for the brief second she needed to verify that the anti-Apparating ward had somehow been dropped from the manor. It had still been active as their fight had begun.

The momentary distraction prevented her from feeling the power eddy right next to her. She lost another fraction of a second as she reined herself in from lashing out instinctively; she might have given Voldemort an opening if she had. She thought of a less draining spell …

Then Harry was kissing her.

She was so surprised that she gave a startled gasp as his lips covered hers, which somehow only added to the intensity of the kiss. The darkness enfolding her, the shield she needed to protect herself from the lifeless creatures against the walls, roiled and began to dissipate. The part of her that she had suppressed suddenly stirred again, and more than stirred. She suddenly found herself responding to his touch, realized that her arms had folded themselves around the back of his shoulders, regardless of the awkward position in which it had put her wand. She could feel the darkness melting like ice under a desert sun, feel the forgotten part of herself rising within her like magma streaming towards the surface of a volcano.

Harry pulled his lips away, though his arms were still wrapped tightly around her chest. "Don't do this, Willow," he breathed. "I love you."

He kissed her again.

The volcano erupted.

Voldemort had just trained his wand on them again when a mass of blue-white glowworms spiraled out and around the intertwined bodies of Harry and Willow. A heartbeat later, a wave of energy burst outward from the two of them, a brilliant white radiance accompanied by a rushing wind that billowed their hair and clothing in all directions and ethereal music that echoed triumphantly in the arched chamber. The dementors were caught in the blast and burned like kindling. Voldemort's curse was turned aside by the leading edge of the wave, and he was forced to Apparate behind a pillar to avoid seeing what would happen if he allowed himself to be caught in it.

The kiss seemed to last forever, and Willow found more and more that she was not complaining, even in the midst of a fight for her life, or worse. It had been forever since she had felt like this; even when Xander had stopped her at Kingman's Bluff, this feeling had been absent. She had never felt anything like this since Tara had been alive. She sighed, and felt the last remnants of the darkness she had carried within her for so long dissipating.

She was free.

Eventually, Harry pulled away, breathless. His face seemed to be illuminated by a kind of angelic light, and a serene smile crossed Willow's face.

"Willow …?" There was a mixture of concern and complete wonder in his voice.

Willow spared a brief glance to look down at herself in the mirrored floor that Voldemort had so obligingly provided. The light that had illuminated Harry's face had not simply been in Willow's mind. It had quite clearly been in her body as well. Every inch of her skin and every fiber of her clothing shone like a newborn star. The sight suddenly made her realize how much power she was holding, without a trace of darkness in her eyes or the feeling that someone else was in control of her mind. Even the wand in her hand, Voldemort's own creation, was pulsing with a pure, clean energy that mirrored the power coursing through her veins.

Voldemort reappeared a moment later in the middle of the room, now much closer than he had been on the balcony above the entrance. Willow, who was facing in that direction over Harry's shoulder, shouted a warning and pulled back, readying her wand, but suddenly pulling away from such an entangled position unbalanced both of them, and Willow had been holding her wand awkwardly during their embrace.

_"Detonacio!"_ Voldemort roared.

Willow threw up a shield, but off-balance as she was, she could not deflect all of Voldemort's blast away from both of them. The shield crackled and sparked as a riving detonation shook the atmosphere in front of them, and the remains of the throne were pulverized. Willow's argent hair was blown out behind her by the wind from the blast, but she otherwise weathered it. Harry had tried to duck away from the blast with his back to Voldemort, however, and in doing so had unknowingly moved partially out of range of Willow's shield. The blast lifted him from his feet and catapulted him off of the dais. He rolled as best as he could as he landed, and years of Quidditch training had taught him a thing or two about how to land, but the floor here was solid stone, not sand. There was a rough thud as he landed. He rolled weakly to the walls, crawling dazedly into the alcove in the wall that had previously housed the Malfoy chessboard. It was clear that he would be doing nothing else for a while.

Willow sighed and turned back to Voldemort. "Looks like we've got to finish this."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Thanks again for all the feedback!

_defyingravity_: I'm flattered, and I'll definitely check out your story if I get a good chance.

_Lils:_ Yep, I'm still around, law school has just been hectic so I haven't been as able to make time to get new chapters uploaded.

_Morena Evensong:_ Good guess!

_chaotic reign: _Well, neither one are supposed to be pushovers ...

_Pamie884:_ That's a compliment in as many words!

_Naitch03:_ Yeah, I couldn't really see that, either. Willow's more of a solitary player.

**COMING SOON:** Chapter 48, "The Second One He Ever Feared." White Willow vs. Voldemort! As the saying goes … you ain't seen nothin' yet!

**SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_ "Finish this?" he hissed again mockingly, more intensely. "You're just like Dumbledore and his fools. You can't finish this. Your foolish ethics won't let you." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "But mine will."_

_ She felt him building a massive amount of power, and his eyes blazed as though a fire had been lit behind them, now tinged with green amid the red. She tensed, realizing what was coming._

"Avada Kedavra!"_ he shouted, driving his wand forward._


	48. The Second One He Ever Feared

DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling. I'm not making any money off this; in fact, if I didn't do this, I could probably get better grades and make more money someday.

SPOILERS/BACKGROUND: Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

** CHAPTER 48:**

THE SECOND ONE HE EVER FEARED 

Buffy was only half-conscious, and fighting to maintain that. She smelled something like herbs nearby, and managed to force one eye open long enough to see Draco preparing something in a small cauldron over the fireplace in his room. He definitely seemed to be hurrying, but to Buffy, any moments spent away from the fight were too much.

He seemed to sense her eyes on him, because he turned around and gave her a concerned look. "Take it easy," he whispered, softly but intensely. "It'll be ready in a minute."

"What is it?" she whispered back, weakly.

"Blood restorative," he answered. "Brewed a little quickly—Snape would throw a fit—but it should do something."

Buffy was about to say something about that, but suddenly opened both eyes as wide as they could go and darted bolt upright in bed, staring in the direction of the Hall of Wisdom as though she could see through walls. Draco didn't even notice, or if he did, he was too distracted to say anything; he was staring in the same direction as Buffy, gaping like a fish. A wave of power seemed to course through the very stone of the walls and floor, sending a warm, almost passionate tingle up and down Buffy's spine as it flooded through the couch and past her. She could tell from Draco's suddenly heavier breathing that he had felt the same thing. The resonance of the power emanating from the front of the manor suddenly changed; half of it was still dark, tainted, but there was suddenly a different feeling in the air as well. Pure, clean, and powerful, it swept through the air in the room like a fresh spring breeze into a house grown stale and moldy with cobwebs over the winter. Buffy would have almost sworn she heard soft music playing somewhere just at the edge of hearing.

The wave passed, and Buffy and Draco snapped out of their trances and looked at each other in amazement.

"Wow," Buffy groaned, slumping back into the couch as her wounds reminded her of their presence.

"Buffy!" Draco cried earnestly, and she heard the sound of a ladle being scraped through the cauldron. A moment later, the silver-eyed Slytherin was kneeling by her side.

"Here," he whispered softly, holding a small silver chalice to Buffy's lips and tilting her head forward so she could drink.

Buffy drank; it was thick, and tasted of mint and herbal tea. She could immediately tell that it was working, but agonizingly slowly, at least for a battle. The feel of power still hung in the air like static electricity, emanating from the Hall of Wisdom at the end of the corridor, but at least the tremors had subsided for the moment.

"How … how did you fix this?" Buffy asked, tightening her fingers around her wand. She had been meaning to ask that for a while now and had simply never gotten a chance.

Draco grinned lightly. "One of my father's Impediments took off a few pieces of your hair," he answered, gently stroking the Slayer's golden tresses, including a decidedly unattractive part where more than just a few pieces had been sheared away. "I still have no idea what a Slayer is, but I figured if unicorn hair works and veela hair works, a Slayer's hair might work as the core of a wand, too."

Buffy gave a wan smile in answer, and reached out a hand to his shoulder. "I'm sorry I never told you about that."

Draco was silent for a moment. "No you're not," Draco replied softly, taking her hand and cupping it between his. "And you don't need to be. I wouldn't go around flaunting it if I were you, either."

"I don't. But I still should have told you."

His eyes flashed with icy memories for a moment. "You never got the chance."

"Maybe."

He ran his hand over the place on her forearm where the dementor's gangrenous claws had raked across her flesh. The wound was almost closed, and the new skin growing in was pink and healthy.

"Looks like it's working," he breathed. "Can't believe there's no infection."

"Yeah, we don't infect easily," Buffy said, thinking that was probably a good thing. She remembered the study session on dementors she, Willow, and Hermione had shared the night before her capture; dementors' claws were known to carry a rotting, gangrenous disease of some kind. She couldn't remember Hermione's description of it exactly, she had simply filed it away as 'ooky' and let it go at that.

"Looks that way," Draco agreed. "Hopefully, you'll be ready to go before …"

His words were cut off by a thunderous roar, and the ground shook suddenly as though the entire continent were splitting down the middle of the room. Buffy was thrown from the couch right into Draco's lap, bowling him over and landing on top of him. A series of thunderous booms shook the ceiling as though titans were pounding on the roof.

"Go now?" she asked, working furiously to catch her breath.

Draco's silver eyes took a mischievous glint for a moment. "Not yet," he said, and he reached behind her and leaned up to plant a kiss on her lips.

Buffy suddenly became very aware of the position they had landed in and the _sai'ha _that she was still dressed in. She flushed. Nonetheless, a wry smile blossomed on her face, and she shook her head helplessly.

"Okay," Draco said with a grin. "We can go now."

"I guess we've got to finish this."

Voldemort displayed no reaction to Willow's challenge, though his eyes burned with livid rage. He simply backed slowly away from Willow towards the front doors of the manor, keeping his wand trained on her, daring her to make the first move. Willow held her ground, motionless except for the ends of her silver-white hair that fluttered lightly as though caught by the faintest of breezes.

"Finish this?" he repeated in a whisper intended to be heard throughout the hall. "You presume much."

"Really? Isn't this like the sixth time that Harry's stopped you cold?"

Voldemort's eyes blazed, and she felt him building his power again. "Your son-of-a-Mudblood boyfriend is in no condition to save you now," he spat, "and I am not 'stopped' yet."

He raised his wand. _"Imperio!"_ he shouted.

_"Apparito!"_ Willow shouted at the same instant, vanishing and reappearing several yards to one side.

Her stomach wrenched a moment later, however, as she saw a ball of baleful violet energy streaking from Voldemort towards the alcove where Harry lay; he had fired it off immediately after his Imperius, knowing that she would be Apparating.

_"Protego!"_ she cried in desperation, flinging the deflector across the hall and turning the ball aside just as it was about to enter the alcove; it burst against the wall, tearing a massive hole in the marble. She quickly started strafing sideways towards the alcove, keeping her eye on Voldemort but anxious to get a better angle on any future shots of his intent on finishing Harry.

"Suddenly thinking Apparating might not be a wise idea?" he mocked. She knew he was right; if he had set that up any better, or if she had Apparated any farther away, she might not have been able to stop him from killing Harry.

She still did not reply for a moment. The white radiance still burned around her, and she was holding even more power now than she had been when her darkness had taken control.

She took a breath and made a crisp motion with her wand.

_"Expelliarmus,"_ she chanted.

_"Protego!"_ Voldemort snapped contemptuously. Suddenly, however, a loud gasp escaped his lips, and he seized at his wand with his other bony hand. A loud crackling erupted in the atmosphere in front of him, and a ring of mystical lightning erupted from the meeting of their two simple spells. He held it for a moment longer, then, with a sharp detonation, he was thrown backward; he kept his grip on his wand, but barely, and his slitted eyes were clearly flustered as he clambered to his feet.

He regained his composure—mostly, at least—a moment later, however.

"Finish this?" he hissed again mockingly, more intensely. "You're just like Dumbledore and his fools. You can't finish this. Your foolish ethics won't let you." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "But mine will."

She felt him building a massive amount of power, and his eyes blazed as though a fire had been lit behind them, now tinged with green amid the red. She tensed, realizing what was coming.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_ he shouted, driving his wand forward.

_"Serpensortia!"_ Willow cried in answer. The Dark Lord's eyes widened in naked shock. A king cobra sailed free of the tip of Willow's wand, intercepting the malevolent green beam bearing down on her. The Killing Curse could not be shielded and could tear through any counter-curse or other spell, but it still only struck one target. The snake was lifeless before it hit the ground, but Willow did not even budge.

A serene smile crossed her lips as she noted the amazement in Voldemort's eyes. _Care to try that again?_ she thought, but she did not voice it aloud; she was past bantering and taunting. She could keep that up all day; there were second-year students at Hogwarts who could pull off the Cobra-Conjurer, while the Killing Curse was among the most draining spells known.

Voldemort was taken aback. He clearly had not expected his Killing Curse to be countered so anticlimactically; even Dumbledore had needed to Apparate around the Ministry antechamber to avoid it. Nevertheless, the look in his eyes said that he was far from defeated.

He brought his wand forward and held it vertically in front of him, breathing deeply, even though it no longer seemed as though he were tired. Willow wondered if he had managed to slip in a rejuvenating potion during the time he had vanished behind the pillar, while Willow was … distracted.

"You have grown strong, young one," he called. "Our ancestors would have been proud. But I have dealt with ancient magics since long before you were born, and I long ago learned to ward myself from them."

Voldemort's eyes blazed again, and a scarlet aura erupted around him. Willow threw up a shield, but quickly realized that Voldemort was not attacking her. Yet.

He was changing.

His wand seemed to shrink and absorb into his flesh, and his hands and feet lengthened and curled into powerful claws. Great, scaly, webbed wings of silver and violet sprouted from his back as he leaned forward, and he began to grow. And grow. And grow. He grew to the point where his wings pressed against the ceiling of the chamber, a ceiling which moments later tore free as the Dark Lord reared against it with his scaly, ridged back, sending fragments of stone off into the gardens and courtyards below. Willow watched, wide-eyed, as where the Dark Lord had stood moments earlier, she was suddenly staring into the enormous eyes of a fully grown Himalayan Elder, one of the mightiest dragons in existence.

Voldemort was an Animagus.

"Ssso what will you do with your powersss now?" he taunted in Parseltongue. Silver flames rumbled in the back of his mouth and the depths of his nostrils as he spoke.

Willow took a deep breath. Her powers would do her no good now; dragons in general were highly resistant to magic, and the ones of the storm-tossed peaks of the subcontinent were all but invulnerable to it. However, she matched his stare evenly, keeping her nerves steady, even though she had never done what she was about to try. She had been thinking about it for months, however.

"Nice," she said simply. "My turn."

A bright spiral of argent and emerald energy whirled out and around her. The point on her neck where the cobra had bit her flared and tingled, as did her hand where she had cut it on the fang of the dead creature in the Chamber of Secrets.

An instant later, she began to change as well.

Her legs blurred and fused together, and she felt her teeth lengthening. Her skin, still glowing, took on a greenish cast that hardened quickly into an iron, venomous green hide. Her vision took on a yellowish cast, like it had in the Great Hall only hours earlier, only sharper, more pronounced, and more potent. She curled her legs around underneath her as she grew, and raised her head as her neck lengthened, until at last she was meeting Voldemort's eyes at eye level, high above the floor, near where the ceiling of the chamber had been moments earlier.

The enormous eyes of the Himalayan Elder across from her widened in astonishment as they found themselves staring back into the eyes of one of the queens of all serpents. The spiraling energy around Willow vanished with a burst as her body finishing lengthening, now nearly the length of a Quidditch pitch; her massive green coils, thicker than the mightiest oaks of the Dark Forest, undulated with her breathing.

The Dark Lord screamed fire and averted his eyes; apparently a glance was not enough to kill an elder dragon, but a basilisk's gaze was still a potent weapon.

Voldemort lashed out blindly with one massive foreclaw; Willow turned it aside with a sweep of her massive tail, crumbling two more glowing pillars in the process. The Dark Lord countered with a blast of fire that obscured both of their visions, hoping to block Willow's line of sight, and with it, the potence of her gaze.

Willow didn't blink. She coiled herself and lunged straight through the flames. Pain seared up her back, but basilisks were not easy to burn, even with the infernal flames of an elder dragon. She cleared through the cone of flame a moment later, and Voldemort had obscured his own vision along with Willow's with the wide blast.

Another flaming shriek, far louder and more desperate than the last one, burst from the Dark Lord's jaws as Willow's fangs sunk into the his right wing. He spasmed wildly, and Willow was thrown free, but a triumphant hiss burst from her lips.

With a great, heaving lunge, Voldemort threw himself through the ruined ceiling and into the sky, spreading his great wings. The massive span proved equal to the task of keeping him aloft, even with the envenomed wound.

Willow lunged skyward in an attempt to get one last nip in on him as he fled, but he was already out of range. She was half of a mind to pursue, but he was flying towards the village, and she was likely to kill half the population of Salazar's Crossing if she bulldozed through it in her current state. Her venom would keep him out of action for a while. In addition, she was physically and spiritually drained, and the burns on her back were starting to make themselves felt. She kept her head aloft above the roof of the great hall just long enough to be certain that Voldemort had no intention of coming back.

As she settled back towards the floor, studiously keeping her eyes away from the alcove in the wall, the argent aura began to envelope her again, and she began to shrink. Soon, the familiar form of the human Willow, still surrounded by the angelic light, remained amid the ruins of the great hall of Malfoy Manor, kneeling quietly on the stone and breathing softly but deeply.

"Willow?" a soft voice half-whispered behind her.

She turned to see Harry, nursing his wrist tenderly, approaching her tentatively. He had obviously had enough wits to have worked some healing spells on his wrist while in the alcove, but there was a look of complete awe, almost reverence, in his eyes. He reached a cautious hand towards her.

Abruptly, the enormity of what she had just done came crashing down on her. The surreal calm surrounding her suddenly winked out, and with it, the argent aura. She suddenly toppled over from her knees, and Harry darted forward to catch her, cradling her gently and shifting around until her head rested comfortably in his lap.

She continued to breathe deeply, and looked up into his eyes with a light, familiar smile, enjoying the answer she got from them.

Suddenly, she giggled. "That was nifty!"

**Author's Notes:** Sorry, it's been ages since I updated this! The last few weeks of the semester were absolutely crazy. Still no excuse, but I appreciate all the feedback for the last few chapters that's trickled in in the meantime; I should be a lot better over the summer.

_Morena:_ I was really disappointed that we never got to see White Willow fight in the series, too. I think this isn't going to be the last fic that I have that motif in. There's so much potential there that the series left untapped, ripe for fandom to flesh out.

_unknown reviewer:_ I know it was campy. Then again, wasn't most of the Buffy series somewhat campy? Ah well.

_Pamie:_ Heh. Don't worry. We're all entitled to cheesiness now and again. Especially in the world of fanfiction.

_Sloane: _I do like the pyrotechnics.

Thanks again to everyone else who reviewed!

** Coming Soon:** Chapter 49, "Aftermath." So what have Draco and Buffy and the rest of the Hogwarts crew been doing while Willow and Voldemort have been duking it out?

** Sneak Preview:**

_ "And, more seriously, guys …" Willow continued. "… thanks for coming."_

_ "I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Harry said, drawing Willow into an embrace that mirrored the one Buffy herself was in._

"Oh, that's right, speaking of the world, I've been meaning to tell you … I almost destroyed it last spring."


	49. Aftermath

**DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling. I'm not making any money off this; in fact, if I didn't do this, I could probably get better grades and make more money someday.

**SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

**CHAPTER 49:**

** AFTERMATH**

Dumbledore stood on the roof of the clock tower in the village hall of Salazar's Crossing, watching the colossal creature soar overhead, noting the wound in its right wing and the fact that it was flying much more slowly than the last Himalayan Elder he had seen, if his memory served him correctly. Nonetheless, it was still moving quickly.

"Dear me, but there's something you don't see every day," he mused. "Perhaps I should have brought Mr. Creevey."

The phoenix on his shoulder gave a dismissive squawk.

"Perhaps not," Dumbledore agreed. "But since I don't have an overenthusiastic paparazzi to follow this story, I wonder if I might impose on you?"

Fawkes gave an assenting, musical chirp and took off into the air after the wounded dragon. Dumbledore cast a quick invisibility charm after him as he lifted off, and turned his attention to other matters.

"Oh, Remus, but you really should be past this by now. Especially in wolf years."

It was the night after the full moon, so Remus Lupin was in his last night of transformation for August, and also his first night of consciousness since early July. He had gotten his potion, so he was perfectly under control, but he was acting just enough like he wasn't to make the small crowd of Death Eaters gathered in the square below and bound by Dumbledore's Anti-Disapparation and Full Body-Bind Jinxes rather nervous. He was circling around them like a sheepdog and occasionally nipping playfully just inches from one or another's ankles, or jumping up and putting his front paws on one or another's chest in order to glare into their eyes.

At Dumbledore's words, he turned and approached the base of the clock tower, giving a soft, almost petulant whine.

"I suppose you could go check up on Harry now," he mused. "I think he's always wanted a puppy."

Lupin ignored that last part, already bounding towards the edge of the village and the stairs towards Malfoy Manor.

"You two might want to go with him," the aged wizard called over the side of the hall, where two young wizards were waiting with their brooms in a large window in the side of the clock tower. "Just in case our young friends don't speak Wolf as well as Snake."

Ron needed no encouragement, and was quickly astride his broom and darting towards the manor. Hermione lingered just a moment longer. "What about you, professor?" she asked.

Dumbledore sighed as the first Aurors began to Apparate into the village square below. "I'm afraid I must return to Hogwarts. It was risky enough for me to leave in the first place, even once Willow had Voldemort distracted."

Hermione nodded, and quickly sped off after her classmate.

Buffy and Draco darted out into the corridor and down the hallway, both noting with some surprise—if anything was going to surprise them at this point—that there was now a breeze blowing freely down the corridor from the Hall of Wisdom. The ruin of the hall came into sight quickly; the balcony and the pillars that had supported it on their way to support the roof had been torn to rubble, and they could see moonlight shining in the chamber ahead. They reached the end of the corridor seconds later.

"Great Salazar …" Draco gasped.

An enormous serpent, well over a hundred feet long and thick as a massive tree, was coiled on the floor, its neck and head stuck out through a gaping hole in the ceiling, though it was descending now. Buffy and Draco quickly ducked back into the cover of the shadows.

"Don't look at it!" Draco hissed. "Its eyes can kill."

"Um … right …" Buffy said, only half-hearing as her eyes remained locked on the great serpent.

Suddenly a white aura erupted around the basilisk, and it began to shrink, fading into a silver, amorphous silhouette that flowed as it shrank into a humanoid form. The same feeling that had brought Buffy upright in Draco's sitting room resonated in the air. Moments later, Buffy recognized the form in the middle of the nimbus, even though the light itself did not die.

"Oh my gosh … Willow!"

Draco looked again in spite of himself, and his mouth dropped open. "Bloody hell …" he whispered as he saw the glowing form of Willow Rosenberg where the basilisk had been only moments earlier.

Moments later, Harry appeared from within an alcove underneath where the balcony had been. He approached Willow slowly, and reached out a cautious hand towards her. Moments later, the aura around Willow winked out, revealing the familiar redheaded wiccan Buffy had always known as she collapsed into Harry's lap.

"Come on," Buffy whispered, quickly mounting her broom and floating down to the floor of the hall. Draco was right behind her.

"Harry!" Buffy called as she landed.

Harry started, but quickly relaxed as he realized who it was. "Hey," he answered softly.

Willow raised herself gently into a sitting position, and turned to smile at Buffy. "Hey," she said softly, though not really whispering. "Missed you."

Buffy felt a tear beginning in her eyes, but she held it back for the moment. "Missed you, too," she gushed. All right, maybe she wasn't holding it back entirely. A moment later, she dropped the sword in her hands and jumped forward to throw her arms around her friend. Willow returned the hug fiercely, and they did not let go for a long time.

When they did, Buffy turned to Draco. The Crown Prince of Slytherin was studiously looking in another direction.

"What are you doing?" Buffy asked.

"Oh … just surveying the damage," Draco answered, but there was a tremble in his voice, and Buffy laughed knowingly.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about all that," Willow replied.

"It's all right," Draco said absently, too quickly. "Nothing I can't get fixed."

Buffy stood up and slowly circled her arms around Draco's waist from behind. "What's the matter?" she whispered. "Don't like hugs?"

He started at her touch, but ended simply shaking his head resignedly. "I guess I could get used to it," he admitted as he turned around. Buffy noted the faintest hint of mist over his silver irises, and smiled.

Harry gasped at the sight of them. "When did all this happen?" he asked.

Buffy laughed. "Oh. You know. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that stuff."

"Not everyone's relationships get into the _Prophet, _Potter," Draco jibed, suddenly feeling bold again. He circled one arm around Buffy's waist, drawing her to his side, and she did not pull away.

"Hey! Not like I try," Harry retorted. He turned and offered Willow his hand to help her to her feet, and she took it. Buffy noticed that they held onto each other's hands even after Willow was on her feet again.

"Now, now, children, try to get along," Buffy chided.

Harry grinned roguishly. "Yes, Mother."

"You best get used to it," Draco said pointedly. "Now you're not only the Boy-Who-Bloody-Lived, but you're going out with the Girl-Who-Cleaned-You-Know-Who's-Clock."

Willow brightened. "Wow, I did, didn't I?"

"Sure looked that way to me," said Harry.

"And, more seriously, guys …" Willow continued. "… thanks for coming."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Harry said, drawing Willow into an embrace that mirrored the one Buffy herself was in.

"Oh, that's right, speaking of the world, I've been meaning to tell you … I almost destroyed it last spring."

"Huh?"

"You know, the real reason I was sent to Hogwarts you asked me about. I was like, to learn to control myself, remember? I forgot to mention why they kinda felt I ought to learn to control myself. About burned the place to a cinder last spring. Been meaning to tell you."

"Oh," Harry mused slowly as he processed this. "OK," he said with a smile a moment later. "Just don't do it again, all right?"

Willow grinned roguishly. "Yes, Daddy," she replied, returning his earlier riposte to Buffy.

"I have a feeling you're past it," Harry said, and he held her eyes with his own. "And if not, just remember, I'll always be here for you. Just promise—promise me—you won't leave me behind next time."

Willow laughed wearily. "Yeah, be like, 'hey, want to go smite Draco's house with a bunch of meteors?'"

"Hey!" Draco made a long face at her.

"Sounds like fun," Harry answered impishly.

"And bonus points for using the word 'smite,'" Buffy added.

"If You-Know-Who is here, I think I'd be all right with it," Draco added.

"And you are _going_ to start calling him Voldemort," Buffy said quickly, raising her eyebrows helplessly at the instinctive flinch that crossed his face at the sound of that name. She quickly pulled away from him teasingly.

"All right, all right!" he called. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!" Buffy, Willow, and Harry laughed, and Buffy returned to Draco's side.

"Harry!" a familiar boy's voice suddenly called out above them. The four students turned their eyes skyward to see Ron Weasley gliding in through the ruined ceiling.

"Ron!" Harry called back. "Glad you could make it!"

"You didn't invite me!"

"Yeah, sorry. There wasn't time."

"Oh, whatever." His eyes suddenly fixed on Buffy and Draco. "Blimey!" he gaped.

Draco fixed him with an amused look. "Hope I didn't steal her from you, Weasley."

"What? Oh, no," Ron answered absently.

Buffy was puzzled for a moment, then what Ron was looking at struck her, and she laughed. She leaned up to Draco, but made her words clearly audible to everyone. "I think Mr. Weasley here likes my outfit."

Ron flushed and hid his face, and a wide grin split Draco's lips. "Amazing. I think Weasley and I actually agree on something. Oh, and … eyes off, Weasley," he finished with a smirk.

"I think Voldemort missed his calling," Willow observed. "He could have been quite a designer. Just picture: _Lord Voldemort's Robes for All Occasions._"

"He didn't invent that," Draco explained as the others chuckled, though Ron still looked a little uneasy at Willow's casual mention of Voldemort's name. "It's the battle garb of Slytherin sorceresses from ancient times. Though I'd never ask you to wear it again," he finished, softer, to Buffy.

Buffy's eyes widened. It had never even occurred to her that the outfit would carry those kinds of memories with it. She couldn't count the number of outfits she owned that would carry painful memories if she had allowed stuff like that to bring her down. If anything, what she had done to Lucius was eating at her far more than anything Voldemort had done to her. She was about to explain, but at that moment, Hermione darted in through the ceiling.

"Hey Harry!" she called. "You all want to come outside? There's someone here who wants to meet you."

"Oh, here," Draco said, turning his silver eyes toward the doors. They began to swing slowly outward.

"Lupin!" Harry cried, his eyes lighting up. "You're all right!"

Buffy's heart skipped a beat when the werewolf entered, but moments later, she realized that Lupin was firmly under control; Snape's potion seemed to be working. She would never have believed it. _I have got to get Oz some of that stuff,_ she thought again.

"Poor guy couldn't even wait until morning, had to come see you, even like this," Ron commented. "Dumbledore practically had to Stun him to keep him from running up here and jumping in. You'd never know the guy was in a coma this morning."

"Dumbledore was here?" Harry asked, turning around. Lupin sat down on his haunches a few feet away.

"He captured a lot of the Death Eaters Voldemort brought here, the ones that fled back into the village," Hermione answered. "We got about two dozen. Lupin was a big help, actually; apparently it's hard to concentrate enough to Apparate with a werewolf jumping around and snapping at you."

"Well, spiffing, but shouldn't he have been … well, _here_? Dumbledore, I mean?"

"Harry," Willow said softly, giving his hand a squeeze, "I think this was something I had to do myself."

"Maybe," Harry mused, unconvinced. Buffy made a mental note to ask the old man about that later as well; Willow had certainly made them all proud, but there had to be more to it than that, or Dumbledore wouldn't have taken such a risk. On the other hand, it had all turned out for the best, so maybe he had.

"Fawkes is trailing Voldemort now," Hermione continued, "and Lupin woke up just minutes after you got out of the chamber. Madame Pomfrey thinks you freeing Deggle might have done something, somehow, though she has no idea how."

"Looks like we've got some serious stories to catch up on," Draco said, casting a quick, nervous look at the werewolf sitting only a few paces away and giving him a surprisingly respectful gaze. He had not known that anything had happened to Lupin.

Willow turned and cast her eyes towards the eastern sky. "Don't worry," she said. "I think we've got some time."

"Right," Buffy said, hoisting her broom. "Then let's go home."

Lupin quickly darted away back towards the village, and the others quickly mounted their brooms and took off.

Minutes later, Harry, Willow, Draco, Buffy, Ron, and Hermione were flying northwest over the mountains, away from Malfoy Manor and towards the school again. The sky was cloudless, the August wind was cool, and the land below was bathed in dreamlike silver. Buffy sighed and breathed deeply; it had been forever since she had breathed the free air of the outdoors. Its effect was definitely restorative, but she found that she could not share in the gaiety of the others. The memory of what had come over her in the second-floor corridor and what she had done to Lucius still weighed heavily on her mind. Nevertheless, she buried the memory and forced herself to smile lightly as the others bantered; they had earned their right to celebrate, and her burdens, like those of all Slayers throughout the ages, were hers to bear. She filed the memories away and closed them off; she would have time enough alone to think later.

It was hard to believe that it wasn't even eleven when the six fliers came upon the familiar sight of Hogwarts in the distance, despite the fact that they had largely taken their time on the flight home. They had started sharing stories, but that had quickly gotten far too depressing, so they had moved on to telling jokes, discussing what they were going to do at Hogsmeade the following day, and doing their best to forget some of the worse details of what had happened to them.

As they got closer to the school, Buffy pointed to the top of the astronomy tower. There was a familiar figure standing there, with a long, silver beard and hair gleaming in the moonlight, calmly watching them approach. The others quickly saw the aged headmaster standing there as well, and moments later, they were alighting on the familiar stone of the safest place in England.

"Hi, professor," Buffy said as they landed.

"Good evening, Miss Summers," Dumbledore answered, his eyes twinkling despite their seriousness. "You're looking better than I expected."

"I've been worse," Buffy admitted. "But I've been a lot better."

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded sagely. He turned to the others. "I don't suppose you could give us and Willow some privacy?"

Harry and Draco both looked about to protest, but both quickly shrugged in resignation and followed Ron and Hermione down the stairs and back into the school.

Dumbledore waited a moment, then beckoned the two American girls to follow him. He led them quickly back to his office, turning to the gargoyle as they ascended the stairs and asking it to let them be left alone for a while. He gestured to two plush chairs in front of his desk, and Buffy sprawled into hers gratefully; she noticed Willow seating herself a little more gracefully. She had yet to see Willow make a single sudden movement since emerging from that light back at the manor.

"Quite a night," Dumbledore sighed wearily as he took his own seat behind the desk. He offered them a drink from a jug of kiwi lemonade on his desk.

"I'd say," Buffy agreed, and accepted the drink.

"We heard you came out to watch," Willow added.

"I did," Dumbledore admitted. "The school is much more vulnerable when I'm not here. I couldn't discount the possibility that he was using you to lure me away from the school, especially while Harry was here. Once you and Voldemort started fighting, however, I felt fairly certain that you had his undivided attention—and once Harry left the school, there was much less need for me to be here and much more need for me to be there."

"And … er, don't take this the wrong way … but why didn't you … uh …?"

"Step in and finish it?" Dumbledore finished for the redheaded wiccan, smiling gently. "Well, I did have my hands full with twenty-two captured Death Eaters, but more importantly, in case he still had some fight left in him, I was in the middle of a village. One or two fire blasts …" he trailed off, leaving the two of them to imagine what could have happened.

"Did Willow at least hurt him?" Buffy asked.

"Oh yes," Dumbledore agreed, a sharp glint entering his eyes. "Basilisk venom is almost impervious to magic, so there will be no easy cure unless he has a phoenix willing to cry for him or a fountain of youth squirreled away somewhere, which I very much doubt."

"Where'd he go?"

"Fawkes followed him as far as Greece. He went underwater then. Fawkes was invisible and didn't think he'd been noticed, but that's certainly a good way to avoid a phoenix. I suppose he has an underwater cave. I'll go check tomorrow."

Willow leaned back. "Long night."

"Well, unfortunately, I believe it was much longer than that for one of us," Dumbledore replied empathetically. Buffy fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair. There were a lot of memories down that road that she wasn't sure if she was ready to dredge up.

Willow's eyes widened, as though she had just realized the import of what she had said.

"No, no, it's … fine," Buffy said tiredly.

"I believe you," Dumbledore said simply. "But I must ask … is there something you wish to tell me, Buffy?"

She looked up at his eyes, then. _Am I that transparent?_ she wondered. She debated how much she wanted to say, but the memories were starting to return to her, and she found that she could suddenly no longer meet Dumbledore's gaze.

"Buffy?" Willow asked. "Something's wrong."

_I _am _that transparent,_ Buffy admitted wryly to herself. Nonetheless, the words weren't coming at the moment. "I … I can't," she managed.

"But you want to?" Dumbledore prodded gently.

"I … I do, but I can't," Buffy said, her voice beginning to crack. She had compartmentalized the memories away while Draco and the others had still been there, but she knew she was going to have to deal with them sooner or later. Dumbledore was bringing them back and making her deal with them sooner rather than later, which she knew she should be grateful for, that she probably would be grateful for someday, but it hurt so much to think about them now.

"I might be able to help with that," Dumbledore said softly.

Buffy looked up at him. "How's that?"

Dumbledore reached behind his desk and lifted a large object onto it. It was a wide, ornate bowl.

"This is called a Pensieve," Dumbledore explained. "I occasionally use it to get a better look at my memories than I can in my own head." He touched his wand to his forehead, and when he drew it away, a long, silvery trail of light was attached to the end of it like a long, light strand of hair. He set it in the bowl, and it immediately fanned out across the surface. An image grew in the bowl, showing a rather shocking image: Dumbledore looked to be half-strangling a frightened house-elf in a dark room in a house that looked like it had been lavishly appointed at some point but had fallen into hopeless disrepair. "This was the last time I allowed myself to become perhaps a bit too testy," Dumbledore explained. "It was rather an unpleasant experience. Fortunately, I did manage to get myself under control, but I was a bit upset when this particular house-elf lured Harry into Voldemort's most recent trap for him."

"Looks that way," Willow observed, making a mental note to herself not to get on Dumbledore's nerves. A moment later, the image of Dumbledore in the bowl seemed to collect his wits and chanted something rather forceful; Willow was good enough at lip-reading to perceive a Legilimens charm.

Dumbledore stuck the memory back in his head a moment later. "It's your decision," he said, his voice full of genuine empathy. "But I can sense that something is deeply troubling you, and you must have been through so much."

Buffy thought about it for a minute. Eventually, she made her decision. She didn't want to hide anything from Willow, or Dumbledore, really, even though she still didn't know him that well. She had liked the man ever since he had shown up in her living room. She turned to Willow. "Can you …?" she asked, unable to finish the question.

Willow smiled understandingly. "You sure?"

Buffy took a breath. "Yeah."

"All right. I think so. Just think about whatever's bothering you most." Her skin began to glow from within again, and the same feeling of freshness and vitality that Buffy had felt before resonated in the air. Willow reached out to touch her wand to Buffy's forehead. Buffy breathed deeply, thinking about what she had done to Lucius, when the memory suddenly faded to just a faint skeleton in her mind, like the vague recollection of a long-ago dream. Willow was pulling her wand away from Buffy's forehead, trailing another silver thread from the tip. She quickly tossed it into the Pensieve.

Dumbledore nodded slowly as the image coalesced and began to play itself out again. "I'll be back in a moment," he said softly, and he stuck his head into the bowl. Buffy and Willow both gasped as Dumbledore suddenly vanished into the glowing mist. Willow leaned forward, and looked to be on the verge of sticking her head in after Dumbledore, but she stopped at the last minute, opting to watch the scene from the comfort of Dumbledore's office.

Buffy watched, too, watching what she had done; it was strange, only barely being able to remember it while the images of the memory were in the Pensieve. She realized that she was remembering it secondhand, by remembering thinking about it afterwards, which was why it seemed so faint.

Willow gave a faint gasp. "One bit you?"

"Just for a moment," Buffy admitted.

Buffy couldn't bring herself to watch the rest of the scene, remembering well how it ended even if the memory of committing the act itself was currently in a bowl on Dumbledore's desk. Willow watched with interest, however, and settled back into her chair just as Dumbledore came surging back through the surface of the Pensieve. He straightened his beard and sat back down in his chair, and motioned for Willow to put Buffy's memory back in her head.

"I want to thank you for sharing that," he said. "That must have been hard."

"It … well, yeah," Buffy admitted.

"However, I don't think you need to worry too much about it happening again."

Buffy straightened, and she met his eyes again. Had he read her mind somehow? That was definitely one of the things she had been worrying most about.

"As the Slayer, you have self-defense reactions that are far, far above regular mortals, wizard or otherwise," Dumbledore explained. "When that dementor bit you and attempted to damage your soul, one was triggered. The spirit of the Slayer came forth."

Buffy nodded. She had felt like something else was in control of her, something that was her and yet not her. That made sense. "But why don't you think it could happen again?"

"It would take more than just that. The part of you that keeps the Slayer in balance … the part of you that is completely Buffy Summers … was largely asleep, worn down by pain, weariness, desperation, and months under Voldemort's psychological domination."

Dumbledore's voice suddenly sounded in her head. _And I believe it would have taken more than even that, but I would hardly think it proper to speak of such things._

He continued aloud, "Tom always had an uncanny ability to understand the minds of others, more than anyone I've ever met. The odds of those circumstances arising again are, well, minimal, and the damage to your spirit should heal almost as quickly as damage to your physical body, quite likely even stronger than before. You are made of strong stuff, even for a Slayer, Miss Summers, if half of what Rupert tells me is true."

Buffy shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe. Even so, though, I already did it once."

"Perhaps. However, even that may not be irreversible."

Buffy looked up at him again. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. "It would appear that young Draco did not allow his father's soul much time to digest," he said. "When the dementor was killed, what was left of his father's soul—almost all of it—would have been released. If there were anyone who knew the secrets of restoring a soul to a soulless body …" he finished suggestively.

That hope came so unlooked-for to Buffy that words abandoned her. She turned her eyes on Willow, who was actually grinning at Dumbledore.

"Let me guess," she mused. "Somewhere in this office—actually, I'm going to go with your robe, you just happen to have an …"

Dumbledore smiled, withdrew a hand from within the folds of his robe, and placed an Orb of Thessala on the desk. "I really must work harder," he mused. "I've worked for so long to make myself unpredictable."

"Your secret's safe with me," Willow said magnanimously, reaching out to take the Orb. "Though someone ought to take care of the body, considering that we're bringing back a criminal this time."

"Lupin and Shacklebolt have already taken care of that," Dumbledore said. "Lucius is in the custody of the Aurors. They have a great many questions they'd like to ask him."

"All right, then, well I guess … one world-class scumbag coming right up."

Buffy breathed a long, weary sigh of relief, and even allowed herself a few belated thoughts of less drastic but no less satisfying things she would like to do to Draco's miscreant father. She gave Dumbledore a hesitant but heartfelt smile of thanks as she and Willow headed for the stairs out of Dumbledore's office.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** Sorry about the long time between updates again! Thanks again to everyone who's been with me for all of this time. There are still a couple of chapters left to bring everything to a close; there are still a few loose strings to tie up. 

Shouts out to: _Kristi, Siren's Call, Anne, mama t, Pamie884, Shabopo, mary4angelus, Sterling-Ag, dragonbaby1987, wackycavegirl, IceBlueRose, Sloane Miette, Jades Arrow, The Cardboard Moon, Ambs, _and_ Fate_. Glad you all are still with me!

** COMING SOON: **Chapter 50(!), "Taking Care of Business." The Hogwarts crowd continue to deal with the fallout of the summer, with some well-deserved, hard-earned fluff and mush thrown in. ;-)

** SNEAK PREVIEW:**

_ "I think that was part of why … what happened … well, happened. Dumbledore says it's because I was worn down, but I think there was more. I think there was some part of me … the other part of me, the Buffy part of me … that wanted it to," she admitted moodily. "Or at least didn't mind."_


	50. Taking Care of Business

DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling. I'm not making any money off this; in fact, if I didn't do this, I could probably get better grades and make more money someday.

SPOILERS/BACKGROUND: Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

** CHAPTER 50:** **TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS**

Buffy was on her way back up the stairwell to the Slytherin dorm when Draco intercepted her. He beckoned her off down a little-used passage onto the fifth floor, and she shrugged and followed him.

"So what's the what?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Not really ready to head back to the dorm. There's going to be a huge crowd there—some saw Willow mad, and most think I'm not coming back until a week from Saturday. I'm not in the mood for crowds and questions yet. Chocolate?" he asked, holding a small box of one of Honeydukes' special collections out to her. "Serious comfort food for the long-imprisoned."

"Gladly," she said, taking one and popping it into her mouth gratefully.

"So how'd it go?"

"Willow's going to try bringing Lucius back."

Draco stiffened. "Why?"

"Dumbledore asked her to. And I wanted her to."

Draco shrugged. "They're just going to give him the Kiss again if they get the chance, you know."

"Maybe. But even if 'they' have any dementors left, at least it won't be because of me."

Draco looked her up and down again. "I get that, I guess," he said at length. "I guess I wouldn't want that on my mind, either. But that doesn't mean I want him back in action."

"Dumbledore says Moody and the Aurors have him. They ought to be able to keep him under wraps."

Draco thought about that for a moment, then grinned mirthlessly. "Yeah, Mad-Eye definitely won't go easy on him. Maybe now that the dementors have revolted and they can't send him to Azkaban, they'll let Mad-Eye turn him into a bouncing white ferret."

Buffy laughed. "Looks like you've got a lighter perspective on things," she observed.

"Being locked away next to the corpse of a giant snake for two months can do that to you. Suddenly being a ferret doesn't seem half so bad."

"Hmph. You were locked away next to one. I was locked away in one's skin."

Draco's silver eyes widened as though something had just clicked behind them. He looked like he was about to say something more on that topic, but then appeared to think better of it and held his tongue. He hesitated a moment longer, then asked simply, candidly, "You want to talk about it?"

Buffy hesitated as well, on the verge of saying no. Eventually, however, she started to talk, just giving him the basics. Once she started, it became easier, and eventually, she told Draco everything about what had happened at his house, starting with when she had first met his father at the Malfoy hunting lodge in the hills west of the manor. She noticed an intense silver fire burning behind his eyes when she told her of the events back in her cell with Lucius the night she had killed Bucky.

"I think that was part of why … what happened … well, happened. Dumbledore says it's because I was worn down, but I think there was more. I think there was some part of me … the other part of me, the Buffy part of me … that wanted it to," she admitted moodily. "Or at least didn't mind."

Draco drew her into a tight, warm embrace. "That doesn't make you a killer, or even a bad person," he whispered comfortingly. "It makes you human."

"I still feel horrible."

"That makes you human, too."

It was well after midnight when she finished; they had strolled out onto one of the outer walls, and the night wind rustled their hair.

Draco shook his head. "I can tell it's really getting to you that You-Kn … that Voldemort got to you that way," he said, "but don't let it. No one else I know could have fought him for half as long, not alone like that."

Buffy listened as he, in turn, told about what had happened to him, and her heart went out to him. Lucius, Deggle, and Bellatrix had ambushed him at Hogsmeade Station, and it had been over so quickly that he had never even known what hit him. By the time the commotion had subsided, Lucius was already disguised as Draco with Polyjuice Potion and had told everyone that it was nothing, some potion ingredients had just broken and exploded. Lucius and Deggle had spirited him back across the lake and into the school, hiding him in the chamber; Lucius had put him under Imperius and forced him to relate the events of the previous few days, so he had known about Buffy and Draco's argument, but he had never asked Draco how he felt about her, so had assumed that he was just doing the politically genteel thing showing her around. The idea that his son would have developed feelings in such a short time for a Yankee with no great family blood never occurred to him then. Lucius had then ordered Deggle to stay and keep him bound, and Lucius had gone to get some more of Draco's more precious things from his dorm room. It had been then that Buffy had seen Lucius on his way out of the castle, and unwittingly let him know that she had feelings for Draco. Lucius had never let Draco hear the end of that over the summer, and had also enjoyed tormenting Draco with the knowledge that he could get free if he could have ever freed himself just enough to give Deggle a piece of clothing, but that there was no chance of it happening. He had continued to bring Draco updates of how what they were planning, how they had captured Buffy, some of the different kinds of things that had been doing to her, and occasionally hinting at some of the different intentions that he personally had had for the Slayer for whenever Voldemort had been finished with her. Draco's voice was dripping with venom by the time he got to the part when Harry and Willow had stumbled into the chamber and freed him, allowing him to free Deggle.

"Can't believe that was all just hours ago," Draco mused as he finished. "Feels like forever."

"Been a long day," Buffy agreed.

"Long summer," Draco added.

Buffy nodded. Draco drew her to his side again, and together they stared out over the horizon from Hogwarts. They had both missed this sight terribly over the last few months. "So now what?" Buffy asked at length.

Draco chuckled softly. "Well, actually, I think my inauguration will go on as scheduled. Just now I'll actually be there instead of dead."

Buffy chuckled grimly in return. "Convenient," she observed. "Though … don't take this the wrong way, but why didn't he kill you earlier?"

Draco grinned mirthlessly. "First and foremost, he needed me for Polyjuice Potion. But also, because I was his only child, and he was officially stripped of his title, he needed me alive. If I died, the Malfoy line would have ended, invalidating any claim any Malfoy made to our estate. If he had been inaugurated, however, he'd gave gotten it back, and then he could have gotten rid of me … either had another child, or let the line die with him the second time around. The inauguration rite is binding. Odd loophole in the inheritance laws; they were laid down and enshrined by all the great families long before Polyjuice Potion was invented. No one dreamed of anyone trying something like that back then."

"Devious."

"That's my father."

A thought occurred to Buffy. "So does that mean that after next Saturday, I'll be talking to Lord Malfoy?"

Draco grimaced slightly, and shrugged. "In name. It's going to take some work to build the estate up again. You probably noticed it seemed a little empty, even before it got ruined."

"Indeed, my lord." Buffy's smile was the perfect picture of innocence.

Draco laughed uproariously. "Kinda like the sound of that, but I'm still Draco." He trailed his finger down her side. "And none of the ancient sorceresses who wore the _sai'ha_ took orders from anyone. Y … Voldemort seems to be a fan of irony."

"Ooh. Maybe I'll keep it around."

Draco grinned and seated himself on a small ledge that ran along the inside of the outer walls. "You know I wouldn't complain."

Buffy tilted her head and turned to look at him, enjoying the argent heat in his eyes. "I'll bet you wouldn't, _my lord,_" she laughed. She seated herself sideways in his lap and gave him a challenging stare.

"I _do_ like the sound of that," he grinned.

"I don't," Buffy answered. "Too much talking." She leaned up, turning her head sideways to capture his mouth with hers. She breathed deeply, inhaling the intoxicating taste of the kiss ... a melange of long-frustrated hunger and the aftertaste of Honeydukes chocolate. She found that she also secretly enjoyed the light, innocent red in his cheeks when she pulled away. She was used to dating people with more experience ... in some cases, centuries more ... but there was something magnetic about Draco's cocktail of fire and innocence that she hadn't experienced since her earliest days with Angel.

She locked Draco's eyes with her own, trying to gauge his reaction. He looked hesitant for a moment, as if unsure what to do in this situation, but eventually, Buffy saw the silver fire in his eyes flaring up again, even brighter now. A new kind of smile crossed his lips, one that she hadn't seen before.

"My lady raises a good point." With that, he turned her so that she was leaning backwards across his lap in her arms as he bent over to kiss her, forcing her to wrap her arms around the back of his neck to keep her balance. The meeting of their lips muffled her laughter, as his words turned themselves over in her mind. _My lady. I like the sound of that, too,_ she decided.

They did not speak again until the moon was well past its zenith, and all of the Honeydukes chocolates were gone. A chance motion in the courtyard below distracted them; Sprout, on her way to check her greenhouses in the middle of the night. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it shattered the world in which just the two of them had existed, which they had created over the past hours. Sprout vanished quickly, never even looking in their direction, but Buffy could already sense the fire in her flesh ebbing.

Draco broke the stillness at last. The awkward, inexperienced sixteen-year-old was back. "Ahem … eh … ur … anyway, think Willow would be done by now?"

Buffy sighed and stood. "Probably. It doesn't take that long for someone who knows how do to do it."

"She's done this before?"

"Not to a human. To a vampire. Same thing, though—flesh but no soul."

Draco's eyes widened. "Whoa," he said. "That's some pretty heavy stuff. Necromancy hasn't been taught at Hogwarts for more than a hundred years."

"Neck-what?"

"Undead magic."

"Oh. Heh. I think that was pretty much the order of the day in Sunnydale," Buffy answered wryly.

They finally made their way back to the Slytherin dorm, but the man in the painting holding the python held up a hand to stop them. "If you're looking for … Miss Rosenberg …" for some reason, it sounded like he had been going to say something else there, "she told me that she was going to be in the library."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Sure likes to make us walk," she muttered. She had a feeling she knew why Willow would be in the library, though, besides the fact that Willow and libraries went together like judges and courts; she would want to be catching up with a certain tousle-haired young wizard that wouldn't be able to get into the Slytherin dorms.

Buffy and Draco were surprised to see that not only were Willow and Harry in the library, but the other two Gryffindor prefects were there as well. They looked like they were doing more than sharing stories, too; Willow had a fairly large stack of books out, and Hermione and Harry both another small stack between them.

"Please don't tell me you're going back to studying already!" Buffy practically whined. _I am so behind,_ she thought to herself.

Willow laughed. "Just a little legal research," she said dismissively.

"And a little Dark Arts stuff for me," Harry added.

"Which these two won't tell us what it's all about," Ron added stuffily. Buffy noticed Willow and Harry share a knowing grin at that.

"I do hope you were just waiting until we got here," Buffy said.

"How'd it go?" Draco asked, cutting in.

Willow shrugged. "Certainly felt like it worked, and Dumbledore told me that Moody said it did."

Buffy and Draco both detected something hesitant in her voice. "Anything else?" Draco prodded.

Willow shrugged again. "Dunno. For some reason, Dumbledore seemed to be about ready to start howling with laughter when he told me, so I'm wondering if I did something wrong. He told me everything went well. 'Better than I could have ever expected,' he said, but he wouldn't tell me what that meant yet. But I did the best I could."

"If Dumbledore said it worked, it worked," Harry said firmly.

"I know. But I still want to know what he was all laughing about."

"I imagine we'll find out soon."

"Probably."

"All right, back to more important things," quipped Buffy, though she was glad to hear that Willow was a success—not that she wanted to see anything good happen to Lucius, but she was glad to hear the news. "What's with all the research? Fight's over. Think fun. Not books."

Willow gave her a hurt, pouting expression. "Books _are_ fun."

"Harry and Willow here are having us look up inheritance laws," Hermione announced. "Don't suppose you can shed any light?" She directed the last at Draco, guessing that he would have the most cause of any of them to know about such things.

"I know a thing or two," the flaxen-haired Slytherin answered sardonically. "Hope you aren't thinking about trying to take what's left of my house."

Willow grinned, and stood up, drawing everyone's eyes. She laid a massive, oversized book out on the reading table, _A Catalogue of the English Great Families, _and turned out several pages that folded outward into a large family tree.

"Actually," she announced, passing her hand over the spread and causing a few more lines on the family tree to appear. "I'm kinda trying to see if I can have what's left of mine."

"Say what!" Buffy asked. "Is Sunnydale okay?"

Willow's smile broadened. "I'm not talking about Sunnydale."

Draco had leaned forward to look at the wide page Willow had just revealed. Hermione and Ron had clustered around, too, but Ron didn't seem to grasp what he was looking at, and while Hermione did, she didn't know where on the massive spread to start looking. Draco traced some lines over it for a few seconds, then his eyes widened in stunned amazement. "Salazar's ballocks!" he gasped. "You're the Marvolo heiress!"

"What?" Hermione gasped, looking down to where Draco's fingers rested and following it, her eyes growing wider and wider as she realized what she was seeing. Harry seemed to already know, since he didn't move from his seat, and his roguish grin broadened. She turned to look at Willow as though seeing her for the first time.

"Someone want to clue me in on the skinny here?" Buffy asked, perplexed.

Willow flashed her a smile. "Looks like I'm a countess. Who'd 'a thunk?"

"Countess!" Hermione gasped. "Willow, you're the Heir of Slytherin!"

Willow shrugged. "Second in line for that one, actually, but since Voldemort's lost his right to the Marvolo land and title in Britain …" she trailed off suggestively.

Buffy's eyes widened. "Oh, wow, Willow, that is awesome!"

Willow grinned and shrugged. "I really didn't want it at first," she said. "But I think I could get used to it. I might have to, anyway."

"Isn't it someone else's by now?"

Willow shook her head. "Seems the land has been officially administered by the Ministry for the last sixteen years but largely left as a nature preserve. There are enchantments on it that make it pretty much impossible to get to for anyone that isn't a Marvolo and cursed land to anyone who gets in and tries to take control. I don't think the Ministry's ever even been able to send anyone onto it. It should have gone to me when Voldemort fell, but no one knew I existed. Now, though, if I don't take it, Voldemort could take control of it again by default … not legally, the Ministry wouldn't recognize him again, but the enchantments on the land would because they could sense that I abandoned the claim, and that's what would basically count."

Draco nodded. "Looks like you've done your homework."

"Good," Harry said. "You can help me with mine."

"What are you working on?" Buffy asked.

"Trying to figure out what Bellatrix did to get away. Didn't look like Apparating, looked almost like she burned up, but there was no body or ashes, just darkness, then nothing."

"Remember the spell?" Willow asked.

"Umm … _tenebris__ … _gosh, I don't know, it was a long one."

"Want me to have a look?" Willow asked.

Harry and Willow exchanged a long look, and Buffy wondered how so much could pass between them with just a glance. Buffy guessed that she and Draco weren't the only couple that had enjoyed a little bit of quiet time over the last few hours. Harry nodded a moment later, and Willow pulled out her wand. Harry closed his eyes calmly, and began to take deep, measured breaths.

"What're you doing?" Ron asked.

"Shh," Willow said softly. _"Legilimens."_

Harry's breathing quickened for a moment, but he steadied it a moment later. Buffy's eyes widened. For some reason, this moment seemed to impress on her more than anything else just how much she had missed. Willow was doing far more to Harry than she had to Buffy, and he wasn't even watching as she did; he was letting her delve into his mind itself. What he was doing had to take an incredible amount of trust. She cast a glance at Draco, and unconsciously squeezed his hand.

Harry opened his eyes a moment later, and Willow pulled back.

"_'Tenebris corporis meum et spiritus meus cedo, reviviscam mea,'_" she quoted. "The Sarcophagus of Oblivion. She was drained, right?"

"I thought so, but that spell looked awfully strong for someone who was drained and hurt."

"She was dying," Willow agreed. "That was a desperate spell. She didn't have any power left."

"Then how did she pull it off?"

"A kind of Faustian bargain, basically," Willow explained. "She obliterated her own body—what was left of it—for the essence for the spell. I don't understand how it works, really. But basically, she's out there—not dead, but not really alive."

"Sort of like Voldemort after his curse backfired?" asked Hermione.

"In a way, I guess," Willow said, "though I think she's too far out in limbo to really affect the world the way he could, and I have no idea what it would take to restore her. She may be able to do it on her own eventually, or Voldemort may be able to do it at some point, if he can find her; it's hard to find your way around in the nether realms. Or the darkness may simply swallow her so completely that she'll never come back. I don't know. But there's no way it will be easy. Once the darkness has you, it doesn't let go easily." She said the last point with bitter emphasis.

"Has anyone ever come back from it?" Harry asked.

"A long time ago," Willow admitted. "Salazar Slytherin used to teach that spell to his most powerful lieutenants, in case they were ever overmatched or ambushed and unable to Apparate. He knew how to bring them back. I don't know if anyone's ever been able to manage it on their own, but I suppose it could be theoretically possible. I'll draw you a diagram later," she finished lamely, noting that the others seemed to have heard enough.

"So we might run into her again," Harry concluded flatly.

"If she's worth enough to Voldemort to go to the trouble of bringing her back. It's not easy, Voldemort's hurt, and it used to take Salazar at least a year."

"She might be worth it to him," Harry admitted. "In the graveyard my fourth year, he actually seemed to like the Lestranges. Or at least value them, which is more than I could say for anyone else."

"Well, we'll deal with that when we have to," Buffy interrupted. A year was far too long in advance to worry about problems in her line of work. "In the meantime, I think I have some serious letterage to catch up on." She had been out of contact with the Sunnydale crew for so long she could barely remember what they looked like, especially with the dementors eroding her memories of them.

"Ergh," Draco groaned. "So do I. I've got a week to get the place presentable again."

"I can help with that," Willow offered.

Draco smiled. "Actually, the house-elves can build, I just need to find someone to manage the group; they don't give each other orders well, and I'm going to be too busy. But I do appreciate the offer. My lady," he added, with a polite bow.

"Oh, please don't start," Willow groaned, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

"That's right," Buffy said, remembering the conversation she had had with Lucius while he was still posing as Draco. "The Malfoys were the Marvolo visors."

"Viziers," Draco corrected her, looking startled that she knew that, but Buffy was already turning a sly look on him.

"Hmm," she grinned. "I think Willow outranks you."

Draco gave a helpless smile, and shrugged.

"Ooh, this could be good," Harry said, his eyes suddenly brightening and all kinds of wheels clearly starting turning in his head.

"Don't get any ideas, Potter." Draco wrinkled his nose at the tousle-haired Gryffindor.

"Too late."

"Harry," Willow admonished.

"Oh, please, please, pleeeeeeease?" he begged. Ron looked rather enthusiastic all of a sudden, too.

Willow gave him a reproving gaze, and Harry stayed quiet, but the wheels were definitely still turning behind his eyes.

"I don't think I'm exactly much value to you at the moment, anyway," Draco admitted. "The family finances are a wreck, since father was squirreling all our income into his own hidden accounts and basically looting the place, and Gringott's will probably charge half of what's left just to put the other half back in order. And the Arcanum Malfi is more than a little worse for wear; father was more concerned with business than with learning. I'm going to have to cash out some of my own savings just to get by for the next week or two, just to hire people to jumpstart the place again."

"Poor fellow." Harry's sympathy sounded about as deep as the water in the Sahara.

Buffy nodded. Draco certainly had a lot of work ahead of him. Then, suddenly, something hit her, and her eyes widened. "So let's see. You're going to need a construction supervisor, someone who's good with money, and a librarian, all willing to work cheap," she said. "I'll see what I can do about that."

Willow's eyes widened, and a brilliant smile spread across her face.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Thanks once again for all the feedback! This story would never have made it this far without your encouragement. Shout outs (and responses) especially to: 

_Shabopo_ I agree about the long-term effects that her loss of control could have on Buffy, but she's a tough girl. Maybe sequel material? (Wink wink?)

_Silver Warrior:_ I think there are actually more than a few parallels that could be made with Ginny and the younger (seasons 1-3) Willow, before she matured into the bad-ass Wiccan that she became. Not just the red hair, but the certain lack of social skills, the willingness to let their curiosity get the better of them with regard to darker magics.

_Morena_ Not the last chapter yet! But true, getting close.

_musicgirl141:_ It seemed to be the kind of repartee (bonus points for using that word, too!) that would go on between the Scoobies in that situation. Sort of reminiscent from the S7 finale when they all talk about what they're going to do the next day right before they go in to fight the Ubervamps.

_laffinpebbles_ Course. Didn't really want to turn Buffy into the ghost of Faith past. That said, I didn't really want Lucius to get off easy, either. More on that yet to come ... ;-)

_IceBlueRose_ Thanks again ... still, been a good ride, hasn't it?

_Naitch03:_ Not sure if there would be a real sequel. I just figured I ought to leave Voldie alive just in case ... and if not for my sequel, for the fact that there are still two more real HP books coming out (one rather soon)!

_Ambs_ I think he wanted to see as much as possible. Figure he has to keep all these old artifacts around for something other than show value.

_Pamie884:_ I'll definitely take that as a compliment. Dumbledore is a hard guy to write because he's such a hard guy to predict in the Potterverse—though he's been getting easier, unfortunately. He used to be the unpredictable maverick genius, back in 1-3. Since GoF, he's become a more stock character, even though he's taken a more prominent role in the books.

Thanks as well for the props from _Mama T, DragonBaby1987, jumping-jo, wordoftruthhunter, _and_ Fate_.

** Coming Soon: **Chapter 51, "Return to Sunnydale." As if the title didn't give it away: Buffy and Willow return to Sunnydale for a quick visit and a modest proposition.

** Sneak Preview:**

_"How do you guys feel about a little change of scene?"_


	51. Return to Sunnydale

**DISCLAIMER:** The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling. I'm not making any money off this; in fact, if I didn't do this, I could probably get better grades and make more money someday.

**SPOILERS/BACKGROUND:** Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

** CHAPTER 51:**

** RETURN TO SUNNYDALE**

"Can you be a little sloppier, please?" Anya asked frumpily.

Giles and Faith looked over to where the vengeance-demon-turned-cashier stood in the entrance to the training area in the back of the Magic Box.

"Uh, 'sloppier?'" Faith asked.

"Yes. Clumsier. Less capable."

"I think I'm missing the point of this," Giles said.

Anya held up the weekly ledger. "We're taking a loss for the third week in a row. Business was much better when there was evilness going on on a daily basis."

Faith laughed, and started to take off her boxing gloves. "I'll get right on that," she said, pulling a quarterstaff off a weapons rack on the wall.

"Oh, and news just came in from the underground, something big's going on over in England. No one could give me any details, but the demons talking about it sounded really scared, which is probably going to hurt our profits even more. But I thought you might like to know, anyway."

Giles rolled his eyes. "Yes, Anya, thank you for telling me." Anya turned and strolled back into the showroom; they heard her start complaining to Xander a moment later.

"You wanna call up your friends overseas for a chat?" Faith asked.

"It's about two in the morning in England right now," Giles answered.

"So? They've gotta have someone up at this hour."

"Well, perhaps," Giles muttered. "Probably an intern or something." Nonetheless, he turned as if to head for the showroom and the phone.

Suddenly, there was a popping sound in the air behind both of them. Faith spun and brought the quarterstaff up, and there was a sharp crack as the staff riposted off a polished black staff in the hand of her assailant. A moment later, however, she relaxed, noting that the polished black staff was actually the handle of a broom, and the slender blonde holding it was rather familiar.

"Nice to see you again, too, Faith," Buffy quipped.

"Hey B!" Faith answered. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"How've you been?"

"Five by five," Faith answered. "You?"

Buffy grinned. "Five years younger, but still prettier than you."

"Hmm," Faith mused, reaching out to put a hand to Buffy's forehead. "Must've caught something over there."

Buffy turned to the bystander in the room. "Hey Giles, bloody splendid to see you again, old chap."

Giles was still sputtering with surprise, but he seemed to be getting over it. "Ah, yes, well … I wasn't quite expecting this, but … and you have the shoddiest English accent I've ever heard," he finished peremptorily.

Buffy laughed. "By which you mean, 'good to see you again, too,' right?"

"Hey, what about Red?" Faith cut in. "Is she …"

"Five by five," Buffy answered. "She flew out with me over the Channel to give me a little boost getting back here. Apparently we're not supposed to do this teleporty thing while in England."

"Apparating," Giles explained. "You're supposed to have a license."

"Yeah, anyway, that's what she said, but apparently it's OK in international airspace. Got me. Anyway, she should be along …" Buffy was suddenly interrupted by another popping sound that came from the showroom out front, and she startled exclamations from Xander and Anya were clearly audible through the door.

"Sounds like right about now?" Faith surmised.

"Sounds like," Buffy agreed.

Moments later, Anya and Willow came hustling in through the door into the practice room. "We have a vis …" Anya trailed off as her eyes came to rest on Buffy. "I guess make that two visitors. Now business is going to be _really_ bad."

Faith chuckled. "Where'd Xander go?" she asked.

"Getting Dawn, she's down in the storeroom."

"Sweet, everyone's here!" Buffy exclaimed.

"That's not entirely unusual for us, Buffy," Giles pointed out.

"Yes, we really ought to start charging them rent," Anya added.

"I own the place," Giles reminded her.

"Well, we could give you a discount for that."

The sound of running feet reached them, and a moment later, Buffy found herself immediately wrapped in a tangle of Xander and Dawn. She returned the hugs warmly. It was good to be back.

"Miss me?" she asked.

Xander grinned. "'course, Buff. Faith just isn't as cute as you."

"Faith's been awesome," Dawn came to the brunette Slayer's defense. "She isn't such a mom about bedtimes or cleaning."

"Man, I can't buy a break tonight!" Faith threw up her hands as Buffy turned a reproving stare on the younger Slayer. "Maybe I'll just take tonight off."

"Yes, you should do that," Anya added enthusiastically. "It would be good for you. You could use a break."

"Now, now, Faith, you've done a fantastic job, but evil doesn't exactly take holidays on the Hellmouth," Giles broke in gently.

"Really? I thought this was the evil vacation hotspot."

"Well, that way, perhaps," the venerable Watcher admitted. "Though perhaps not this summer."

"Aw, shucks, G," Faith grinned.

"So it's been all quiet on the western front?" Buffy asked.

"Not entirely," Faith answered, at the same time that Dawn piped up, "Faith's been seriously kicking ass."

"Dawn Summers!" Buffy snapped. "Where do you hear these words?"

"Hmm. TV, radio, school, movies …"

"Well, who taught you to talk like that?"

Dawn gave a helpless look at the brunette Slayer, and Buffy followed her gaze, wrinkling her nose.

"All right, I have definitely been away too long."

"Yes, you have," Giles added with a fatherly smile. "But Faith has been doing a marvelous job here. Things might not have been completely quiet for her, but they've been quite quiet for the rest of us."

"I guess that's the best compliment a Slayer can get," Buffy answered empathetically, turning a more sympathetic look on the raven-haired Slayer across the room.

"Certainly the best one I've gotten tonight," Faith laughed. "Though things have actually been pretty quiet overall since Willow nearly destroyed the world last May … oh, yeah, thanks for holding back on that one," she added towards the redheaded Wiccan, who had moved to one side and was quietly enjoying the conversation.

"Oh, that's right, how is that going?" Anya asked. "I've trying to figure out how much insurance this place needs."

"Anya," Giles said reprovingly.

Willow laughed lightly. "No, no, it's OK," she said. "Well, I think I've learned how not to destroy shops and planets. Still kinda working on palaces."

"Well, that's OK, I don't have one of those."

Buffy grinned wickedly. "True. But she does." Willow blushed and shrugged modestly.

"What!" There was a chorus of voices as everyone started talking at once, which went on for some time before Buffy could get everyone quieted down again.

The other Scoobies listened, wide-eyed, as Buffy and Willow recounted the highlights of the summer's events. Buffy glossed over some of the less pleasant details about her capture, but was surprised at how much she was able to say about it; talking with Dumbledore and Draco had been more help than she had realized. Willow managed to say more than Buffy knew she was comfortable with about how dark she had gone again for a few brief hours earlier, but she could see that the others at least mostly believed her when she said she had worked it out of her system at last.

"Man, sounds like I was working in the wrong place," Faith said as they drew to a conclusion.

"We heard something big was happening over there," Giles added. "I suppose we should have known you two would have been involved."

"Welcome to the exciting life that is us," Buffy admitted wryly. "Fun just follows us everywhere."

"Except that there's normally not a palace waiting at the end," Xander added.

"Well, true, there is that," Buffy admitted. "Though actually, that's kind of one of the things we wanted to talk to you guys about."

The others waited, and Giles arched an eyebrow at them inquisitively.

Buffy took a breath. "How do you guys all feel about a little change of scene?"

"You sure you're going to be all right here by yourself?" Buffy asked.

Her sister Slayer looked across the terminal of Sunnydale Municipal Airport at the crowd of familiar faces and their hastily packed luggage. They were all smiling and joking and constantly pressing Willow for more stories of England and Hogwarts.

"I think can handle myself," she answered. "Sounds like business is going to be awfully slow for the next few months, at least. Demons haven't been running for cover like this since Glory died."

"Willow's shielded the house with the strongest stuff she knows, which is some pretty kick-ass stuff at this point."

Faith grinned. "Now, B, where'd you hear that kind of language?"

"Grrr."

"Seriously, though, I'll be fine. 'sides, sounds like they could use a Slayer's help over there, too."

Buffy nodded. "Hate to be stealing the whole gang from you, though."

Faith shrugged. "Hey, I've got the house, I'm out of the slammer, got a little stash coming my way, and I'm still prettier than you," she finished with a grin. "I'll be all right."

"Hmm. Something must be going around over here."

"Oh, whatever," Faith laughed. "Go be a Brit."

Buffy wrinkled her nose at that, but gave Faith an appraising look, as though seeing something else on the tip of the other Slayer's tongue.

Eventually, Faith shrugged resignedly, stepped forward, and gave Buffy a tight hug. "Come back and visit, all right?"

Buffy grinned. "I'll have Draco set up one of his little teleporters."

Faith's eyes widened approvingly. "Yeah, you know, I always wanted one of those for Christmas."

"Consider it an early present. For taking good care of my house."

Faith laughed. "_My_ house now, B," she reminded her sunny-haired friend.

Buffy laughed as well. "You're going to be fine. At least until the Council sends another Watcher."

Faith rolled her eyes and made an exasperated sound, but there was less heat behind it than there would have been only weeks earlier. "Hey, you never know, sounds like they're coming around. The new guy they have in training sounds like he's pretty cool. Plus, sounds like they're finally opening their wallets a bit and putting their money where their mouths are."

Giles had called the Council earlier, finally getting through on the third try; the phones had been ringing off the hook in their London headquarters ever since the battle at Malfoy Manor earlier that night. Giles had been immediately been put on conference call with nearly the entire organization while he, Buffy, and Willow explained to them what had happened at the manor, and what was happening now. One of the younger Watchers—considered the frontrunner for Faith's new appointment now that she was out of jail, though internal politics had delayed the decision for months—suggested that they buy off the remainder of the Summers' mortgage and set Faith up with a trust fund to keep her from needing to work, and the normally miserly Travers and his cronies in the inner circle of the Council had been basically been shouted down when they tried to object. It had been a brief but memorable moment.

"Maybe," Buffy added cautiously. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Well if they don't, you bet I'll let you know."

"Absolutely."

The loudspeaker crackled to life. "Final call, flight thirteen to Los Angeles."

"Guess that's my call," Buffy said.

Faith smiled. "Go on, get out of here … don't want you to miss your connection."

"Right," Buffy sighed, beginning to back away.

"And find some way to get on the phone over there, too, magic or no magic," Faith added as she began to back away as well.

"I will," Buffy promised, turning and heading back towards her friends, all waiting to board the plane. Faith waved once and called out a last farewell to the group as she headed back up the terminal towards the exit.

"One redeye express to Los Angeles," Xander announced proudly.

"And they do have peanuts," Dawn added.

"Ooh, I'm liking this already."

"But no chocolate frogs," Willow added sadly.

"Chocolate frogs?" Xander asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Dear me, it's been a while since I had one of those," Giles mused, drifting off into reverie.

"We'll get some in London," Buffy promised.

"Chocolate frogs?" Xander repeated.

"Chocolate frogs," Buffy repeated. "They're just … well, frogs. Made of chocolate."

"I see."

"Is that how they got the name?" Dawn asked innocently. Buffy made a face.

"I think we should get on board," Anya interrupted. "I want to see my palace."

"Hey!" Willow said, her face the picture of mock-indignation.

"Well, Willow's palace."

Willow smiled again.

"I think we're gonna be staying at Draco's for a while," Buffy added. "But yeah, let's get on board."

"And it's off to the wonderful world of Giles," Xander announced expansively, and the Scoobies laughed and boarded the gangway.

"Are we there yet?" Dawn asked as the jetliner taxied to a halt at the international terminal at Heathrow.

"Yes, yes, welcome to the wonderful world of Giles," the aged Watcher announced pleasantly. Being back in England seemed to be having an effect on him already.

They quickly disembarked and picked up their scarce luggage; they had left a great deal behind for Faith, and Willow had teleported the rest of their luggage ahead of them to spare embarrassing questions about large quantities of medieval weaponry and rather unusual-looking brooms. From there, they headed out through another door, where a familiar young wizard with unkempt hair was waiting near the end of a long crowd of people. Willow smiled; he was holding a sign that said "Countess Marvolo."

"'morning," she greeted him, dropping a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Though I guess it's afternoon, here."

Harry smiled. "It is indeed. Never thought I'd miss a Hogsmeade visit to go to London with Draco Malfoy."

Buffy laughed. "This summer keeps getting weirder and weirder."

"Wait 'til school starts."

"So you're young Mr. Potter," Giles said, stepping forward. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Harry answered politely. "And please. Call me Harry. Snape calls me 'Mr. Potter.' Usually means I'm in trouble."

"You usually are," Willow reminded him. Harry made a pouting face at her, and she chuckled.

"So where is Draco?" Buffy asked.

"Waiting with the car," Harry said with a mischievous smile. "I think he's still trying to admit that he likes it."

"Likes what?"

"You'll see," he said, and beckoned them to follow him outside.

"Oh, you're kidding!" Willow gasped as they came outside.

"I like him already," Anya added.

"Can I keep it?" Dawn asked.

"It isn't Draco's," Harry said, approaching the door of the Rolls-Royce Phantom stretch limo waiting for them at the curb. He adopted a mock-haughty expression. "The lord Malfoy would never _dream_ of being seen in any Muggle transportation." With that, he pulled the door open to reveal the aforementioned Slytherin boy, who was happily helping himself to the contents of the limousine's refrigerator, and had poured everyone a classic Pimm's Cup as a welcome.

"Oh my gosh," Buffy laughed as she led the group into the limousine. The interior was plush and spacious, even more spacious than the exterior, if that were possible—which Buffy now knew actually was. There were regal black leather seats, and two refrigerators; the second looked like it had gone where a TV would have been. Draco handed her the cocktail tray, and she passed it on.

"Hey, it's England, I'm allowed!" Dawn complained when Giles tried to pass the tray across her to Xander, and she helped herself to one.

Harry grinned and picked up a small phone by his seat, another roguish grin spreading across his face. "Driver, King's Cross, if you please."

The black plate over the window from the rear of the limo to the front rolled down, and a familiar face turned around to give Harry a mock-reproving stare, his half-moon spectacles pulled forward on his nose. Buffy and Willow collapsed in a fit of laughter at the sight of Albus Dumbledore in a chauffeur's hat, though he was still wearing his enormous purple robe. The image clashed horribly and was completely Dumbledore. Buffy could see a small part of the back of someone else's head in the passenger's seat in the front, too, but not enough was visible to make him out at first; he looked familiar, though.

"'Driver,' Harry?" he asked, drawing another gale of laughter from the two girls, as well as Harry. Draco and Giles smiled wryly.

"Is this yours, professor?" Willow asked.

"Mine, actually, lassie," said the other man in the front seat, who turned around to reveal the wizened face of Nicholas Flamel. "Built 'er in 1910. She transfigures and upgrades automatically at the beginning of each new model year," he added proudly.

"I so need to work on my Alchemy," Buffy mused, looking around as Willow made the introductions all around.

"So … we're heading back to the school?" Willow ventured.

Draco shook his head. "My family's carriage is waiting at platform 9¾," he explained. "Couldn't rightly bring it into the middle of Muggle-ville."

"'Muggle-ville?'" Dawn asked.

"Let it go," Harry interrupted. "Anyway, we'll drop the rest of you off there, then take Willow on to the Ministry for some legal stuff. Registering you as an Animagus, getting your Apparating license, officially transferring the estate back to your name, that kind of thing." His smile broadened. "Plus I think Fudge wants to get on your good side, since you're going to be the biggest shakeup among the great families since Voldemort's revolt. The _Prophet's_ already going crazy." Willow grinned and shrugged.

"You sure you don't need my help?" Anya asked. "I'd hate for anything to happen to my palace. Your palace," she added as an afterthought.

"You have a law degree?" Draco asked.

"And a business degree. A lot of demons do," Anya explained dismissively. "Contracts, networking, all that kind of thing. Good stuff to know. D'Hoffryn paid for a lot of us to go to night school."

"Wait, you're a lawyer?" Xander asked, suddenly wide-eyed.

"Not for a while, Xander."

"Guessing it's a little dated?" Buffy asked with a grin.

"Columbia, class of 1884," Anya announced proudly.

Willow laughed. "I'll be fine. I'm not even really taking anything, just putting my name down so no one else can."

Minutes later, the limo pulled up in front of King's Cross, and Buffy, Draco, Giles, Dawn, Xander, and Anya emerged. Willow scooted over to the rear door to say farewell.

"See you at the manor, I guess?" she asked.

"Yep. Doesn't sound like we're going anywhere. Lots to do in a week," Buffy answered.

"All right then. Giles, Dawn, Xander, Anya … everyone …" Willow trailed off for a moment. "… thanks for coming. Really."

A round of sentimental farewells followed before Willow retreated into the limousine; Buffy and the others waved a last farewell as the car headed off in the direction of the limousine. Then she turned and led the others into the station.

"Bless me, it's been a while since I've seen that," Giles said as they approached the barrier onto platform 9¾. Buffy enjoyed the reactions of the others as Draco stepped ahead and vanished into the pillar. They recovered quickly, though; they had seen far stranger sights over six years on the Hellmouth.

Their reactions were substantially more pronounced when they saw what was waiting for them on the other side.

Platform 9¾ was largely empty, as the next train wasn't for more than an hour. The few witches and wizards that were there, however, were gawking at the sight of what had to be Draco's family carriage, waiting in a small, flat greensward just past the end of the platform. It was wrought of polished black wood and inlaid with an intricate pattern of sterling silver, accented with emerald and adamant. A team of four majestic silver pegasi were hitched to the front, and Buffy recognized the house-elf Zog acting as the footman. Another one was waiting with the reins.

"Oh … wow …" Dawn breathed.

"That about covers it," Draco answered with a light grin.

"I'm liking this part already, too," Anya said, giving the carriage an appraising look.

"Is that one of those little gremliny things you told me about that I've got to supervise?" Xander asked.

"Yup," Buffy said with a quick nod.

"Don't worry, they're quite capable," Giles assured him.

"Absolutely," Draco added. "I'll get you the schematics as soon as we get back to the manor."

"All right," Xander shrugged. "Guess I should learn not to be surprised after everything we've been through."

They quickly piled into the carriage, and were quickly on their way. The takeoff was so smooth that they barely noticed that they were airborne. Within minutes, they were streaming northwest over the maize and green checkerboard of the English countryside, chattering and bantering as they hadn't since Buffy actually had been sixteen. Buffy sighed as she looked out of the window at the countryside streaming by below them, Draco's arm around her waist and her friends beside her. The last few months had been hell, and she had a feeling that she was going to have some troubled dreams in the nights to come, but it was good to feel confident once again that, in the end, everything was going to turn out all right.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry this chappie was so long in coming! It's actually been written for a little while, I just keep forgetting to upload. I keep starting too many new projects and not finishing old ones. Hope I was able to make it worth the wait!

**Coming Soon:** Epilogue (yes, all good things must come to an end someday): "Inauguration." Draco—the real one this time!—is christened Lord Malfoy at last; Faith takes over the Hellmouth full-time; Buffy and the Scoobies settle in for a little extended stay in the HP-verse; Lucius gets his justly deserved comeuppance.

**Sneak Preview:**

_ "Ah, good afternoon, fair ladies," Draco said airily, giving them a graceful bow as they approached. He seemed to be in a wickedly good humor._

_ "Countess Marvolo," Harry announced, his grin broadening, clearly in a voice designed to be heard by whoever was in the tent; he seemed to be in a rather pompous mood at the moment as well. "And my lady Slayer," he announced, seeming to enjoy that even more. Buffy broke out in a laugh; she had never expected to be addressed like that, and even less so by Harry Potter._

_ "All right, what's the what here?" Buffy laughed._


	52. Epilogue

**DISCLAIMER**: The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling. I'm not making any money off this; in fact, if I didn't do this, I could probably get better grades and make more money someday.

**SPOILERS/BACKGROUND**: Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

* * *

**  
EPILOGUE:  
INAUGURATION**

The next week passed in a blur.

Xander quickly got the hang of directing a construction team made of short, purple-skinned, long-eared creatures with no construction equipment. The fact that they had the ability to levitate enormous loads, knew all kinds of useful magics, and were willing to work nearly nonstop certainly helped matters. In addition, he had already earned himself a claim to fame by bringing the Muggle business practice of subcontracting to the wizarding world; it had never occurred to any of the great families that house-elves could be hired out, but Xander had managed to convince Draco to hire some of the excess house-elves from the school, who weren't as necessary during the summer. By the time dawn lightened the eastern sky on the morning of Draco's inauguration, very little damage from the great duel between Willow and Voldemort remained, though there were still some marks in distant corners of the grounds for those who knew where to look, and some of the inner, private chambers of the manor were still a little worse for the wear.

Anya knew how to work the Floo and spent an inordinate amount of time on it, contacting the Malfoys' most important clients and assuring them that their investments were safe and that the Malfoy treasury was largely intact. She had also arranged a much more attractive settlement with Gringott's than Draco would have believed possible, based on some banking laws that could have made them liable for participating in money laundering and dealing with a convicted Death Eater; Knobscale, head of Gringott's' legal division, had pointed out that they had no knowledge of that, but Anya pointed out that that was going to be a very flimsy excuse in court, that all the evidence was going to say that they had negligently looked the other way, and that a trial was not going to help their own image or credit. The goblins had come around reasonably quickly, and much of the loot that Lucius had pirated from the Malfoy's official coffers had been restored or traced.

Once he stopped drooling, Giles was right at home in the Malfoy library, and quickly took steps to reorganize it to make it more friendly to outside researchers; its previous design had been to make knowledge nearly impossible to find. He also quickly arranged for his own collection from the Magic Box to be added to the Malfoy collection, and had already made a few deals to bring in some older materials from the Council's repository to fill in some conspicuous gaps in the collection, largely the result of the Malfoys' long neglect of developments in the magical world outside the realm of the great families.

Dawn helped out wherever she could, largely planning some rearrangement of the various guest suites throughout Malfoy Manor; the house-elves had always kept everything in order, but they had always done so by repairing and restoring everything to the way it had always been. There had not been any real redecoration or remodeling in decades. Some suites, including all the most lavish, were left that way for the use of the great families, all of whom tended to be traditionalists. However, Dawn was given free rein to use her creativity on some of the lesser suites and servants' quarters, as Draco was already making arrangements to bring human servants back into the manorial staff again. Her main function, however, was to simply be there at the manor and share a guest suite with Buffy to quell at least some of the rumors that would have started had Buffy and Draco lived there alone. Some of those rumors were inevitable, anyway, but having her there helped.

Once her belongings were relocated from Hogwarts to the manor, Buffy spent most of her time with Draco. Draco was working overtime contacting all the other great families by owl and Floo, assuring them that the inauguration would continue as planned, though several names had been conspicuously disinvited and there was a substantial revision of the names at the VIP table. Buffy handled all the other communications, from the catering staff to the _Prophet_; a small army of reporters had gathered in Salazar's Crossing almost overnight after that wild night. The two of them had appeared on the front page of the _Prophet_ three times in the past week. The full story of what had happened to the two of them had still not been brought to light, but Dumbledore and Harry weren't talking and Willow and Flamel had been avoiding attention, so Buffy and Draco were the only ones involved that any reporter could get near.

Almost from the instant Willow, Harry, Dumbledore, and Flamel had left the Ministry a week earlier, Willow had been plagued by reporters everywhere she went. She had avoided them since that first day, even resting out in the wilderness on several nights instead of staying at the manor or the school, but that had hardly stopped the speculation and punditry from spreading like wildfire. The _Prophet_ and several international papers had assigned entire teams of researchers to digging up everything they could about the Marvolo lineage, to the point where Willow was sure that there were dozens of people out there now who knew more about her than she did. She had not even been out to her estate yet; she was determined to wait until all her friends were settled and the damage she had done to Draco's estate had been completely restored. She was certain that that was driving insane many reporters, and possibly even a few Ministry officials, because the Marvolo lands had sealed themselves when Voldemort had been stripped of his title and Willow's coming was the only thing that would lower the barrier. However, as she had told her friends in London, she had only intended to put her name to the estate to prevent Voldemort from doing so; she wasn't sure how ready she was to be a countess.

Willow sat high on one of the steep hills north of the manor as Draco's big day dawned; there was a small depression in the hillside here caused by the meteor shower she had summoned a week earlier. The house-elves had been working around the clock to repair the damage done to the manor and its landscaped grounds, but the vast, sprawling lands that were part of the manorial hinterland still bore a lot of scars. She was reading the morning paper.

Even with Willow hidden from the public eye, it had been a good week for the _Prophet._ There was a second person on the planet that Voldemort feared, who also happened to be dating Harry Potter. The Malfoy estate had been almost destroyed. Lucius Malfoy had been exposed masquerading as his son, and his status was being kept in close confidence by the Ministry. The real Draco's inauguration was fast approaching. Twenty-two Death Eaters had been captured in Salazar's Crossing. Preparations for the upcoming war were accelerating, and many wondered openly if the battle of Malfoy Manor had not indeed been the opening salvo. And, of course, it had been generally assumed that the heir apparent to the Marvolo estate would be reappearing today for Draco's inauguration. The very air in Salazar's Crossing last night had been nearly quivering with anticipation.

Willow felt a change in the air and cast her gaze upward. Harry was circling down on his broom; he was hidden under his invisibility cloak to avoid the omnipresent eyes of the reporter corps in town, but Willow had been able to see through it ever since her battle with Voldemort.

"Hey," she greeted shyly as he landed and doffed the cloak.

"Hey," he answered. "Anything interesting?"

"Hmm," Willow answered, rustling through the pages thoughtfully. "Me. You. Me again. You again. Draco. Dumbledore. You. Me. And Fudge keeps trying to force his way into this picture but Buffy isn't letting him."

Harry laughed. "It'll settle down after a while."

"This is what … sixteen years that they haven't left you alone?"

"True," Harry conceded with a light grin. "But Dumbledore tells me that they tend to let things go after a half-century or so."

"Ah, something to look forward to."

"You know they're not going to leave you alone for a while. Probably not until this is all over."

Willow sighed. "I know."

"You know you're the countess of someplace you've never even seen. Plus it can seal itself off, like Diagon Alley only bigger, so if you want to get away …"

Willow cut him off with a soft finger to his lips. She knew that he, like most of the rest of the wizarding world, was puzzled by the fact that she hadn't even gone out to look at her estate yet, even though Harry was one of the few who knew that she had accepted the title largely to prevent Voldemort from staking any further claim to it.

"Shh," she breathed softly. "Everything I want is right here."

A warm smile lit Harry's face, and he scooted over to her, allowing her to nestle in the crook of his arm. "More than I ever dreamed I'd have is right here," he answered softly.

"Can we skip the ceremony?" Willow purred.

"Tempting," Harry admitted. "But I think Buffy might get mad at us."

"Mm. Bad idea," Willow conceded.

"But I think we could probably get away with not showing up until the last minute," he added, dropping a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Still have to get changed."

"That takes all of … ten seconds?"

"Hmm, touché."

"Plus it's not even seven in the morning yet. Gates open at noon. Most of them won't even be up yet."

Willow grinned. "It's all right. You've convinced me."

Harry grinned back and stretched his arms expansively. "Well, splendid then," he said, leaning his head closer to hers. "So … what to do with the next few hours?"

Willow wriggled deeper into his embrace. "Let me think ..."

"Willow, where have you been!" Dawn asked as the redheaded wiccan found her way back into the embassy suite at Malfoy Manor. "Big ceremony today? Gates open in ten minutes? Ring a bell?"

The suite had become Scooby Central for the past week. Buffy, Willow, and Dawn shared the master bedroom; Giles and Xander had taken one of the smaller bedrooms and Anya had gotten the other to herself. Harry had been staying on at the school and visiting by Floo.

"Relax, Dawnie," Willow laughed. "I'll be fine. And you look great."

"Aw, thanks," Dawn smiled. Her face hardened again a moment later. "But don't think you can distract me with flattery." Willow fought down the urge to break out laughing; Dawn definitely needed to work on her resolve face. Buffy's sister did indeed dress up well, however; she was clad in a loose, flowing gown of royal blue with silver fur accents, and she was draped in matching shawl of thin silk that draped loosely around her shoulders and across the small of her back.

Willow allowed herself a small inward smile. She had planned something a little more extravagant for herself, but she was certain that neither she nor Buffy would have approved of Dawn wearing what Willow had in mind.

"I'll be right back," she said. "If Harry gets here, tell him I'll be out in the minute." She quickly strode into the master bedroom and into the closet, where an unobtrusive garment bag near the rear wall lay waiting for her.

"_Apparellate,_" she chanted, and the contents quickly settled themselves around her figure. She took a quick look at the three-paneled mirror and smiled. "_Hygienis femina,_" she finished.

She emerged from the bedroom a minute later, and saw that Harry had indeed joined Buffy's sister in the sitting room. She raised an eyebrow at him approvingly. After the outlandishness of Diagon Alley, she had never thought she would appreciate wizarding world fashions as much as the trusty Muggle apparel she had grown up with, but she was starting to change her opinion.

Harry was wearing a rich red robe inlaid with golden runes that flamed dimly whenever they passed through a patch of shadow, trimmed with golden sable. The robe parted to reveal a formal tunic of minotaur-skin leather, and his feet rested in sandals of the same material.

"Bloody Lockhart never wore anything this garish," Harry observed, spoiling the moment. He said it with a smile, however, and from the look on his face, Willow could tell that it was not his own appearance that he was intent on at the moment.

"Willow, where did you get that!" Dawn asked, her mouth dropping open.

Willow strode fully into the room. "Made it myself. Figure if I'm not going to avoid the cameras today, might as well enjoy it."

A thin sable circlet encircled Willow's brow and kept the ornate ringlets of her hair away from her face; they streamed loosely behind her to just past her neck, which was itself graced with a string of enormous black pearls. Her dress fell to her ankles, but was a rich, sensual crimson, and the bodice was a close-fitting corset of ruby-accented crimson hydra skin cut to just below the top of her chest. Red hydra-skin slingbacks accented with rubies and white gold and a diaphanous black half-cape that seemed to blend into a trailing aura of shadow completed the ensemble.

"You _made_ that?" Dawn goggled.

"For the most part," Willow admitted, keeping her eye on Harry and enjoying his reaction. His eyes made no secret of his approval as he crossed the room to her.

He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. "What's the special occasion?" he asked innocently.

"Um … Malfoy inauguration, remember?" Dawn interjected from the corner. Willow smiled. Dawn hadn't been around long enough to grasp the intricacies of the Potter-Malfoy rivalry … though it was quite often anything but 'intricate.'

"So I repeat … what's the special occasion?" Harry asked with a laugh.

"How about 'Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy sitting at the same table?' That doesn't happen too often," Willow countered pointedly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "And may it never happen again," he finished airily.

"Manners, children," Buffy laughed from the door.

"Yes, Mother," Willow grinned as Buffy strode into the room. Apparently she wasn't the only one who had decided to dress for the occasion. A thin circlet, silver but otherwise nearly the twin of Willow's own, held her hair away from her face. She was clad in a soft black dress falling to her thighs that glittered green from the thousands of flecks of emerald dust somehow woven into the fabric in the pattern of green flames trailing up from the hem. A bracelet of silver pearls adorned her wrist, and her emerald-on-black sandals were accented by ornate silver anklets on each ankle.

"Check you out!" Buffy exclaimed as she got a better look at Willow's outfit. "I was half expecting school robes."

"It was tempting," Willow admitted. "Though not as much as an invisibility cloak."

Buffy chuckled understandingly. "I hear that … except there's the whole, well, can't-wear-it-forever problem."

Willow nodded glumly, until she felt Harry's arms encircle her warmly from behind.

"Well, _I_ for one am glad you didn't wear an invisibility cloak," he said in her ear, in a whisper meant to be heard by all. Buffy and Dawn grinned, and Willow laughed softly.

"Well, when you put it that way …"

An hour after the gates opened, Willow was just beginning to get an inkling of what the atmosphere at the manor had to have been like during the height of the era of the eldritch nobility. The manor and grounds were nearly as full now as they had been empty when Willow had attacked the palace eight days earlier. Xander and his house-elf construction crew had done a nearly flawless job of getting all the pieces of the manor back to where they needed to be and then some. There were at least two thousand people in attendance, though only six hundred had been invited for the actual inauguration ceremony in the Hall of Wisdom and given palace passes. That was still enough to fill almost every corridor and gathering place in the manor with people, however, and nearly all of the great families in the United Kingdom were in attendance, as well as many from the continent. Willow had read about some fairly lavish events in her History of Magic readings, and even so could scarcely have imagined the kind of pageantry on display today.

Willow had anticipated a great deal of attention from the media, and had not been disappointed, but what she had completely underestimated was the amount of other people, some of the most potent figures in Europe, who wanted to meet her. Buffy was staying with her as much as possible, and attracted quite a bit of attention herself, but most of the great families seemed more interested in talking to the new Marvolo heiress. Willow had already had three very uncomfortable meetings, though she had done her best to suppress her feelings when introduced to the parents of three of the prefects she had defeated earlier in the summer. She imagined she was going to have to meet the others before long; she had spotted and avoided a rather pug-faced looking couple earlier that she feared were the Parkinson parents.

On the other hand, she had thoroughly enjoyed meeting Barbarina Giovanni, mother of Vincent Byron, who also seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself. Willow imagined that the familiar hug she had given Vincent on seeing him here had probably translated into at least some measure of status for his mother. Vincent later explained that she had unknowing done so right in front of his mother's family, the ones that had disowned her on knowing that she was pregnant with the son of a peasant.

She was just finishing her second glass of champagne when she and Buffy were approached by yet another world-famous figure in the wizarding world.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she greeted him excitedly. There was one of the few people she had actually enjoyed the prospect of seeing again today.

"I wish I could get away with wearing that," Buffy pouted. Dumbledore had conspicuously _not_ dressed up for the occasion; Willow guessed that he would wear that patented threadbare purple robe and those yellow galoshes to his grave.

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, thank you, Miss Summers." His eyes sparkled lightly. "Though I unfortunately cannot say that I return the sentiment."

Buffy laughed. "I'll call that a good thing."

"See? Let no one say I'm not a man of taste," Dumbledore quipped. "Anyway, I think there's someone here you both might like to meet. He just arrived."

"Oh?"

"He's unfortunately going to have to leave after the ceremony, so you might want to see him now."

Willow was puzzled by now, especially because there was a decidedly wicked edge developing in the sparkle in Dumbledore's eyes. She looked at Buffy, and they both shrugged. "Sure, why not?" she asked.

Dumbledore smiled, turned, and led them out of the Hall of Wisdom into the palace grounds. The festivities were a bit wilder out here, as most of the dignitaries and V.I.P.'s were inside, while their entourages and the children who weren't inclined towards high-brow socializing were enjoying themselves on the grounds. Several party tents had been pitched on the plazas leading up to the manor, and drinks were flowing like water. Several children were playing a pick-up game of Quidditch in the distance.

The old wizard led them to one of the party tents; Willow's eyes widened as she approached it, as she spotted both Harry and Draco loitering outside it. Not only was it hardly expected to see both of them together without Buffy or Willow there to keep the peace, but both of them were wearing decidedly predatory grins.

"Ah, good afternoon, fair ladies," Draco said airily, giving them a graceful bow as they approached. He seemed to be in a wickedly good humor.

"Countess Marvolo," Harry announced, his grin broadening, clearly in a voice designed to be heard by whoever was in the tent; he seemed to be in a rather pompous mood at the moment as well. "And my lady Slayer," he announced, seeming to enjoy that even more. Buffy broke out in a laugh; she had never expected to be addressed like that, and even less so by Harry Potter.

"All right, what's the what here?" Buffy laughed.

"Oh, but we are just overwhelmed by your grace and generosity," Draco announced. "Such noble ladies, giving so graciously of their precious time and descending to visit a most distressed _peasant_." He put a biting emphasis on the last word.

"Peasant?" Buffy wondered aloud.

"Draco, we mustn't keep them waiting," Harry admonished in his most mock-noble air. He was obviously nearly bursting at the seams repressing laughter.

"Ah, indeed, do forgive me, Countess Marvolo, Lady Summers," Draco said, drawing back the tent flap. "Do come in, my ladies," he announced.

"Oh, must we?" Dumbledore asked. "This is really quite entertaining." Draco and Harry both blushed, but shrugged sheepishly.

"Can you really blame us?" Draco asked.

"I didn't say I blamed you for anything. I said I found you entertaining," Dumbledore said as they all passed within.

Buffy straightened as soon as she saw who was within, and her eyes blazed. Willow quickly put a hand on her friend's hand to keep her from reaching for her wand. Or a weapon. Willow was sure Buffy had one hidden somewhere. "Lucius," Buffy growled.

Lucius Malfoy was seated within, apparently unrestrained, though the young Auror that Willow had learned was named Kingsley Shacklebolt was guarding him. His hair was disheveled, and he was slumped over, sipping a mug of butterbeer despondently. By the look in his eyes, he had done a lot of crying and not a lot of sleeping lately. He gave no acknowledgement of their presence.

Draco also quickly wrapped his arms gently around Buffy's waist to calm her for the moment. "Everyone, I would like you to meet Lucius Malfoy, formerly Lord Malfoy and Chairman of Malfoy Financial, esteemed member of the Board of Directors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and acclaimed Ministry of Magic insider …" Lucius turned an absolutely venomous look at his son before returning to his butterbeer.

"Draco …" Buffy was clearly puzzled and more than a little angry.

"… or at least, what's left of him," Draco concluded. Harry chuckled mirthlessly, though he definitely seemed to be enjoying himself.

"I thought you might want to see in person that Willow's spell worked," Dumbledore explained. "Mostly. At any rate, Lucius is not dead."

"You should have left me that way, Dumbledore." Lucius' voice was weak and broken.

"Mostly?" Willow asked. She had felt that her spell had been a complete success.

"Ah, yes, well, I might have misspoke. Willow's spell worked to perfection. However, Lucius' soul did have a small amount of time to digest. Apparently that part which connects a wizard's spirit to the flows of the wizarding world was … well …"

Willow's mind leapt. The lack of a guard, the one thing that Lucius would have hated more than death … "He can't do magic anymore," Willow mused, wonderingly.

"My father, the _Muggle_," Draco announced. Willow suddenly understood the predatory grins that both Harry and Draco had been wearing.

Willow sensed the tightness in Buffy's muscles begin to loosen nearby, and saw Draco relaxing a little against her back. A wicked grin spread across her face, and Willow realized that she was realizing the significance of that. Buffy had still been harboring lingering guilt about what she had done to Lucius, but had also clearly been secretly wishing that something worse than just imprisonment would come to Draco's father after what he had nearly done to her. This was something that would sit easier on Buffy's conscience … and if Lucius hated it worse than death, Willow imagined that Buffy could live with that.

"We've arranged for him to be committed to a minimum-security Muggle psychiatric hospital after today," Kingsley explained with a fierce and knowing grin. "You know, the kind of place they send people that get delusions that they can do 'magic' and all that kind of stuff. But we thought it would be … cruel … not to let him see his own son's inauguration … you know, considering how much this event has meant to him all summer," he finished pointedly. Lucius dejectedly drained another entire mug of butterbeer in one gulp.

"Anyway," Draco said brightly. "Good to see you again, old man … but I think I've got to get back inside. Important people to meet, things to do, that kind of thing. This is a big day for me. I'm sure you understand."

"Now, now, Draco," Dumbledore cautioned softly, but there was a dangerous twinkle in his eyes. Willow remembered hearing that Lucius had arranged for Dumbledore to be sacked several years earlier. "Do leave your father in peace. He's had a rather difficult week."

Draco grinned. "Of course, professor." He turned from the tent, and the others followed. Willow noticed a slight extra bounce in Buffy's step as they returned to the manor, and she was feeling a bit more festive herself.

The hours ticked by until sunset, and the stream of personages eager to greet the new Marvolo heiress finally began to abate. The preparations for the evening meal heightened and the assembled aristocracy began to look for their places at the tables that the house-elves were hurriedly bringing into the Hall of Wisdom. The V.I.P. table was the largest and most elaborate, set on the dais above the rest of the hall, but there was no shortage of lavishness on any of the tables anywhere.

Draco cast a quick look at the rosy rays of the setting sun began to stream in the new skylight. "You'll have to pardon us, Minister, I think it's getting to be about that time."

_Yes, yes,_ Willow agreed quickly to herself; Cornelius Fudge had been among the last group of functionaries to approach the four of them, and Willow guessed that it was more to be sure that some _Prophet_ reporter got a picture of the two of them together than any real desire to get Willow's opinion on the weather or the champagne.

"Oh, yes, of course, Mr. Malfoy," Fudge agreed hastily, and the four of them headed off towards the dais before he could find some way to change the subject and keep the conversation going.

Many of the other Scoobies were already loitering near their places at the V.I.P. table, waiting for Draco to arrive so they could seat themselves, as the lines of people waiting to make their acquaintance had not been quite as endless. Willow guessed that one of the hundred stories in the _Prophet_ the following morning was going to be about the fact that no less than seven people not of the great families were seated at the V.I.P. table, something nearly unheard-of, but it had been convenient enough to arrange without damaging Draco's reputation: Willow was simply given six seats at the table to invite for her own guests, which had promptly gone to Buffy, Giles, Dawn, Anya, Xander, and Harry. Draco had offered to invite Buffy himself, but she had insisted that her invitation go through Willow like the rest of her friends'. The last person not from a great family was, of course, Dumbledore, who sat between Anya and Lord Delacroix, to prevent another of the noteworthies there from having to sit next to anyone not of suitable status.

"Is this seat taken?" Willow asked Xander, who was standing near the center of the table, as she approached the seat just to the left of where Draco would be sitting.

Xander gave her a look of mock-indignation. "Ahem, does it look like it has your name on it?" he quipped.

Willow reached out and picked up the placard on the dish in front of her. _Countess Marvolo,_ it read. She wrinkled her nose.

She turned and showed the card to Xander again. It now read: _Willow Rosenberg. Genius._

Xander smiled and shared a knowing look with her. "Guess it's your seat after all."

A moment later, Draco reached his place at the center of the table. A hush fell. Draco stood and looked around the chamber for a few seconds, then motioned for the gathering to be seated. Willow quickly took her seat next to Draco, in between the Malfoy heir and Harry; she was certain that there would be some comments about Harry Potter sitting only two seats away from his former archnemesis, but it was important that Willow sit next to Draco because of the Marvolo connection with the Malfoys, and it had been important to her to sit next to Harry for obvious reasons. Buffy sat on the other side of Draco, and gave Willow a quick look as if to say, _here we go._

Willow took a breath. Inaugurations among the great families were not exactly complex. The heir apparent made his inaugural address, always ending by announcing the inaugural feast. Declaring the feast, like raising and lowering the anti-Apparating wards, was the sole privilege of whoever the ancient enchantments on the lands recognized as the heir of the line. If the feast appeared at the bidding of the claimant, it was proof enough that the claim was legitimate. Willow and Buffy were both certain that Draco's claim was legitimate, but considering all the intrigue that had led up to this day, there was no telling if they had missed something somewhere.

Draco waited until the rustle of clothing and the scratch of chairs had faded, then began. Willow's eyes widened immediately, and she had a premonition that they had done things right. His voice was deeper, more mature, as if he were at least five years older and finished filling out his frame.

"Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies of the United Kingdom and beyond," Draco began, "welcome to Malfoy Manor. It has been more than twenty years since this chamber was last used for the purposes to which we put it today, and more than three centuries since it saw such an august gathering as this evening's. You honor me." That would be important to him personally, Willow realized; it meant that his ceremony had attracted a better crowd than his father's had. "Considering all the excitement of the past week, I wouldn't have been surprised had some of you forgotten about today's little get-together. I almost didn't make it here myself." A low laugh rustled through the crowd; the great families appreciated anyone who could survive a near brush with death and joke about it afterwards. Survival was an art form. Draco took a small sip of water and continued.

"Nearly sixtyscore years have passed since Asmodeus Malfoy laid down the first foundation stone of Malfoy Manor, nearly a hundred feet below where I now stand. His inauguration was a smaller affair; there were only three other great families in the British Isles at the time." That reminded everyone that even though Draco was only sixteen, his lineage was among the oldest in the chamber. "There were more by the time Hogwarts was founded, and even more by the time of the founding of the Ministry." There was a murmur laden with mixed feelings at that; many of the great families rued the day the Ministry had been established. They had enjoyed much greater autonomy before that, even though most of them now wielded considerable influence in the Ministry.

"We tend to look back on that time as our age of legends," Draco continued. "Why shouldn't we? Perhaps none of our forefathers then compared with Salazar the Great, but who can forget Livia Marvolo? Hadrian Lestrange? Archibald Barclay? Lyle Nott? Belladonna Delacroix? Magnus Gandersworth? Or the legends of the continent, Domingo Giovanni, Margherita Diablo, Ramses Hellenopolous, Akasma Karamehmet?" Those had been some of the greatest names during the heyday of the Renaissance aristocracy, and most had descendants in the chamber whom Draco wanted to give some recognition. The Lestranges were the only ones unrepresented.

"I think most of us here have been brought up to look back on those days with no small amount of nostalgia," Draco continued. "I remember many times, even before I was old enough to take that first train ride to Hogwarts, wandering through all the galleries of paintings of all the men and women to have stood at this table before me, all the Malfoys from Asmodeus to Eburnius—memories preserved in enchanted ink, all that remains of a mystical, forgotten past of glory and majesty. Even before I ever put on the Sorting Hat, I could have told you each and every one of their names. My father could have recited the life story of each and every one of them. I'm sure many of my schoolmates here have similar galleries in their homes, and many of the lords and ladies have paid similar reverence to their histories.

"That, I have come to realize, was always my greatest mistake." There was a surprised murmur at that, and Willow tensed; this was walking on dangerous ground. One did not lightly even hint at disparaging the culture of the great families.

"For the past century, scholars and philosophers among us have spoken and written about my generation, and my parents', as a time of fading and loss. Our ancestors' day was the noon, ours the twilight. When my father taught me about the men and women in those paintings upstairs, I learned about them as a source of pride and a justification for avarice and sloth. I grew up with a sense of entitlement, a feeling that the great deeds of my ancestors had earned me the wealth and privilege into which I had been born. That pride made my father vulnerable to the promises of a poisoned tongue, a voice that preyed on that pride and the sense that the glory that was his birthright had been unjustly taken from him. It offered him an easy way out, a shortcut back to what he believed was going to be the glory of the elder days, or at least to his romanticized vision of that glory, to which he believed his blood entitled him. The lure of that was too much for him, as well as for many other great wizards and witches that by should be sitting among us this evening. That pride might have led me to the same fate, had my eyes not been opened by the events of this past summer.

"For too many years now, without realizing it, we have lived in the past. We have not been studying our history to learn from it, but to attempt to live in it. Our pasts have meant more to many of us than our futures. It took realizing that my father was willing to sacrifice the future of our line for a false hope at reclaiming his phantasmal vision of bygone days to make me see that. I imagine I'll be kicking myself for many years to come that I didn't realize it sooner. I've learned something very important this summer. It is not our gifts that reveal who we really are. It is our choices.

"So, my lords and ladies, I might not have had as much chance to travel this summer as in summers past, but I've learned a few lessons about the world nonetheless. After today, there will be no more looking back or measuring myself against the ghosts of centuries past. I am Lord Malfoy. There have been other Lords of Malfoy before me, but I stand in no one's shadow. Ladies and gentlemen … _bon appetit._"

A cornucopia of tempting aromas suddenly filled the chamber, and Willow looked out to see every cup and plate in the hall filled with the most delicious-looking food and drink she had ever seen. The Great Hall at Hogwarts seldom looked so festive even on holidays. Even more surprising than the quality of the food, however, was the intensity of the applause. A thunderous standing ovation filled the hall as Draco concluded his speech, especially from the younger guests and the Slytherin students in the hall; most of the few who maintained their seats and their silence were some of the oldest in the chamber, and even some of them wore looks of begrudging approval.

As a final gesture to cement his claim to the title, Draco turned and made a casual beckoning gesture to the rebuilt throne several yards behind the V.I.P. table on the dais, and it scooted forward obligingly. Draco turned again and raised his glass, now filled with a light golden champagne. Everyone in the hall did likewise, and the din of applause subsided momentarily.

Draco paused for a dramatic moment to let the echoes die away.

"To victory!" he announced, raising his glass.

"Victory!" the chorus sounded through the hall. Even those who had not applauded his speech toasted to that. Willow guessed that one or two … or more … probably had their own designs as to whose victory they were toasting, but that stopped no one from participating in the toast. Draco took his seat, and the feast began.

"Nice speech," Willow complimented him as she set her glass down.

"Nice food," Buffy added from the other side of the new Lord Malfoy.

"Thanks, for both," Draco answered with a smile.

"Think you've stirred up a bit of a hornet's nest?"

"With everything else that's happened this week?"

"Touché."

"It sounded like you got to a lot of people," Willow ventured.

"I hope," Draco answered. "It needed to be said, anyway."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you're off to a good start," Buffy added.

Draco smiled at her and squeezed her hand. "That's all that really counts, then."

"I think you're off to a good start, too," Harry added from the other side of Willow.

"Yes, but you see, I _care_ what _she _thinks," Draco replied, reaching over to put his arm around Buffy's shoulders.

"Draco, behave," Willow interceded.

"Ah, yes, my lady," Draco replied with his most innocent grin … which Buffy decided he definitely needed to work on. He couldn't look innocent to a jury of blind men.

"And don't call me that!"

"Of course, my lady."

"Grrr."

The feast lasted well into the night, and the lords and ladies assembled gradually began spilling out into the rest of the manor to mix and mingle again. Younger ones and Hogwarts students slipped back outside to resume their pick-up Quidditch games or mingle with the more raucous peasant celebrations continuing outside. Enchanted bonfires were lit as the evening progressed and the sun dipped low over the horizon, and the fireworks began just after darkness fell. The Scoobies and their new Hogwarts friends watched it unfold from the second-floor balcony above the main entrance. After the fireworks display ended, many of the personages at the gala began to make their departures, and Draco was beset by a stream of people wishing him farewell and various amounts of luck.

By midnight, all of the major names had left, including Dumbledore, and the few lesser family members who remained were all in various states that suggested that they wouldn't be making their goodbyes until morning. House-elves moved among them, conjuring plush green sleeping cushions in out-of-the-way corners and nudging the less ambulatory revelers over to them; most took the hint obligingly. The crowd had begun to thin out a couple of hours earlier, so the Scoobies had had a chance to tell just a few more of the stories of the summer; it was more than obvious that they were going to be catching up on everything that had befallen each other for months to come.

"All right," Draco said at length, casting a glance at a silver pocketwatch within his robe, "it's almost one. I've got a full day tomorrow—only a week until fall term starts back at Hogwarts. So much for the 'relaxed atmosphere' of summer classes."

"Mm-hmm. Dawn, it's past your bedtime, too," Buffy noted. Actually, of all of them, she and Draco were probably still the steadiest on their feet, but this had to have been an even longer day for him than for her, and he didn't have Slayer endurance.

"Aw, come on, it's a special occasion!"

"Hence you getting to stay up past ten."

"You're no fun. I want Faith back."

"Just because you're my sister doesn't mean I won't hurt you."

"Not like any of us really need to do anything in the morning," Xander cut in. "You guys go ahead. We'll crash sometime between now and daybreak. I'm still wired, but you guys have had a bit long day."

"Definitely a long day," Willow agreed. She turned to Harry. "See you in the morning?"

"As if you needed to ask," he replied, and Buffy smiled as she watched him fold the redheaded Wiccan into his arms and draw her into a long, slow kiss. The tiny but visible tremor that passed through Willow's body said all that needed to be said. The two of them moved away.

Buffy sighed. Dawn was going to be up until ... well, dawn. Then again, she did have a point; it was a special occasion. "Don't stay up forever, okay?" she pleaded.

"I won't, I promise," Dawn promised.

Buffy nodded to herself before turning to Draco, who was offering her his arm. Buffy smiled. She had never thought of herself as much of the type for chivalry, but it was definitely growing on her. "Why thank you, my lord," she grinned whimsically as she accepted his arm.

"Quite welcome, my lady," he replied impishly.

"Crazy people," she heard Dawn say behind them as Draco escorted her from the balcony. Her lips compressed wryly, but she was in a good mood, and wasn't about to press the point. She was enjoying herself too much.

The halls of Malfoy Manor were quiet save for the soft snoring of those who had fallen asleep where they lay down to rest for a moment, and whom the house-elves had not yet had a chance to remove. The crystal lamps still shone, however, with a soft silver moonglow that made the walk back to the entrance to the master suite feel like a stroll through a dream. They said very little as they walked; Buffy was enjoying the warmth of the lazy late-summer air, and of Draco's touch on her arm. The walk was from one end of the manor to the other, but at length, the silver-on-teak doors of the master bedroom suite came into view.

"'kay," she whispered, even though there was no one nearby to hear them. "See you in ... mmph!"

Draco cut her off by twirling her around to face him and covering her lips with his. A red warmth blossomed in her veins, and a low, throaty purr escaped from her throat despite the fact that her lips were somewhat occupied.

A quick gasp escaped her lips as Draco abruptly let go of her lips and gathered her in his arms. He was far stronger than his lean frame made him look. Her eyes narrowed wickedly. "I didn't think you looked all that tired," she noted with a feral grin as he carried her lightly through the doors. She slipped one hand free and touched the wand that she'd squirreled away within her dress. You never did know when ... or how ... having one handy might come in useful. "_Colloportus,"_ she whispered at the door over Draco's shoulder. She heard, and felt, a low chuckle begin in Draco's chest, and when she pulled back to look into his eyes, the unbridled silver fire she saw burning there sent tiny tendrils of lightning down her body. She let herself go and leaned backward until she felt the soft cushions of the divan in his antechamber against her back. She breathed as deeply as she could as Draco leaned forward to whisper softly in her ear.

"Alone at last."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Finally finished! For a while there I didn't even think I was going to upload the epilogue at all, since it just wasn't sounding the way I wanted it to, but I woke up one morning and decided I couldn't just leave it hanging.

Thanks so much to everyone who's been with this fic for a long, long time now. I'd never taken on a project of this scale before, so thanks to all of you for keeping me going. I hope I get a chance to do something like this again.

**Coming Soon:** Um ... finished!

**Sneak Preview:** Hey, you saw what they were doing at the end, what do _you_ think the next chapter would look like! ;-)


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